Welcome to Middle Earth
by Galathilion
Summary: Five friends from Earth end up in Middle Earth a few days before the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. There they become irrevocably entangled in the lives and stories of its people, as they join the forces of good in the War of the Ring. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This fanfic takes place in February of the year 2004. All three movies have been released, so don't be surprised if I use them, though the plot of the story will follow book canon as strictly as I can manage it. All five girls in this story are real people whom I have worked very hard to portray correctly. They have all read and approved every chapter that I post. Also, the capital letters at the beginning of a paragraph mark a new section in the story. Apparently, ff.n's formatting doesn't like skipping spaces between sections.

Welcome to Middle Earth

GANDALF made his way slowly up the cold stone stairs to his room, leaning heavily on his staff. He was weary, more weary than he had felt in a long time, in both body and heart. The four-day ride to Minas Tirith had not seemed to tire Shadowfax, but it had been hard on both hobbit and wizard—much as he wished otherwise, Gandalf still possessed the body of an old man, with all its inherent weaknesses.

But he had little time to rest. Sauron's forces would besiege Minas Tirith any day now, and the city was woefully unprepared. The people knew this; he had seen it in their eyes as he guided Shadowfax through the many levels to the Citadel. And their lord had given up hope when they most needed it.

Gandalf could understand Lord Denethor's despair; at the moment he was rather tempted to give in to it himself. All that he had worked for in the many centuries he had spent in Middle Earth was coming to a head, and he could feel the reins of control slipping from his grasp. He hated waiting, after he had set all his plans in motion, watching to see if they would come to fruition, or if something he hadn't anticipated would doom them to failure.

Frustration welled up inside him, and he knocked harder than necessary on the door to the room he shared with little Pippin. When no one answered, he quietly opened the door and peered inside. The bed was empty; Pippin was still with Denethor, perhaps. Good. That would leave him time to think in peace. The hobbit was dear to him, but sometimes the exuberant and utterly inexhaustible curiosity of youth became difficult to bear, especially when one needed time to reason out a plan of defense for one of the most important battles of this age.

But after an hour of silent contemplation that yielded nothing more than crumpled sheets of parchment with discarded battle plans, Gandalf longed for something to break the silence. His concentration was scattered, his mind slowed by weariness.

Suddenly an idea came to Gandalf. He sat down on the cold stone floor, cross-legged, his hands resting on his knees. His staff he set beside him, and then he began to call to the Valar, his masters, pleading with them for some guidance, some spark of wisdom that he might kindle into a full-fledged plan of action.

"HEY Erin, you got the CD player?" Kavila called as she dropped her backpack on the gym floor and started toward the locker room.

"Yeah, and my CDs!" Erin answered as she raced to catch up to her friend. "You?"

"I've got my CDs. I even brought some of my Indian music." Kavila answered as she reached her locker.

"Great! See you out there in a minute!" Erin dashed around the corner to her own locker, where she quickly changed into the black pants and shirt required for dance class.

Every six weeks in dance class the students were required to break up into groups and choreograph a dance. Today was the first day of their newest assignment, the day they picked out their music.

When Erin returned to the gym, she found all four of her friends already discussing potential songs. Adrienne sat against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest, her long, wavy brown hair reaching most of the way to the floor. Sarah sat next to her, legs crossed, straight brown hair falling about her slightly stocky form. Kavila sat across from Adrienne, her much darker skin contrasting with the tan-colored gym floor, dark brown hair that seemed almost black pulled back into a tight ponytail. Quiet Megan sat across from Sarah, reddish-brown hair tied up in pigtails, sunbrowned skin reflecting her Mexican ancestry.

It only took half an hour to pick out music. With another ten minutes to go until it was time to change out of their dance clothes, the girls began to do what any teenage girls do when they have a few free moments: chat.

"Guess what you guys," Erin exclaimed. "I got 234 points last night at my archery league!"

"Um, is that good?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, since I only missed one target the whole night _and_ I got a bullseye!" Erin answered, clearly very happy. "Hey, you guys wanna come shoot with me sometime? I missed it last week, and I've got to go to the archery range and do a make-up this weekend."

"No, thank you!" said Kavila. "I'll come and watch, but I won't shoot. I don't like pointy things! Besides, I'd hurt someone."

"No you wouldn't," replied Erin, rolling her eyes. "They make sure it's very difficult to purposefully hurt someone."

"I'll come!" Adrienne volunteered excitedly. "When?"

"Yeah, I'd go! Sure!" Megan and Sarah said.

"Great! When can you guys do it?" Erin asked.

"I've got color guard practice on Saturday," said Adrienne.

"Cross-country meet Saturday," said Megan.

"Work on Saturday," said Sarah.

"I've got a dance performance on Saturday, but I'm not going anyway," Kavila said.

"Well," laughed Erin. "I guess that rules Saturday out. What about Sunday?"

"Afternoon's fine," said Sarah and Megan. "I've got church in the morning, though." Sarah continued. Megan nodded.

"I'm so glad I don't go to church," said Adrienne, and Erin nodded emphatically in agreement. Both were atheists, and quite proud of it.

Suddenly Sarah spoke up. "You guys, I think we better go change."

The others looked around, startled to find the gym completely empty and silent except for the muffled yells coming from the locker room.

"Ah…yeah. Good idea—" Megan started to say sarcastically, but was cut off as she and her friends were suddenly enveloped by white light. It seemed that she could hear voices calling in the brightness, singing a song whose melodies were so ancient and timeless they struck a chord in the very heart of her being. There was a moment of weightlessness, drifting in a cloud of dazzling light that she could see even through closed eyes, and then it was over. She felt cold floor beneath her again, but something told her it wasn't the gym floor.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing Megan noticed was the expressions of surprise all four of her friends wore. The second thing she noticed was the dim lighting, which she quickly traced to a single…burning candle? _Where the hell are we_, she thought as she looked around with wide eyes, taking in the stone walls and medieval-style furniture.

Suddenly she felt the weight of someone's gaze on her back. She realized with a start that her friends were all staring at a point behind her, and turned hurriedly around to meet a pair of wise grey eyes. They were set in a wrinkled yet kind face, blank with surprise, framed by long locks of white hair and a white beard. He wore voluminous white robes bound by silver clasps. At first glance the man almost looked like some kind of white-haired monk, sitting in a position of meditation.

"Who are you?" Megan heard Adrienne ask in a choked voice.

The man stared for a moment longer before replying in a deep, raspy voice, "I am the wizard Gandalf."

"That's not possible!" Kavila burst out, arms waving with enthusiasm as she spoke. "Lord of the Rings is _just _a book! It's _not_ real! It's a _made-up_ world! You're an…an actor or something!" she concluded with a nervous laugh.

"My lady," Gandalf replied in a soothing tone. "I know not of what you speak. Middle Earth is quite real, and you are most definitely here."

"Oh my god, you guys, we're in The Lord of the Rings." Erin said, grinning dazedly.

"You are not in the Lord of the Rings, you are in the city of Minas Tirith," Gandalf corrected with a puzzled frown. "The Lord of the Rings is a person, not a place, and one you should not speak of."

"Then...the Dark Lord hasn't been defeated yet?" Erin asked, with a hint of hopefulness in her tone. To participate in the War of the Ring would be the fulfillment of every dream she had ever cherished since she had read the Lord of the Rings novels.

"No." Gandalf studied them carefully for a moment before continuing. "The siege of Minas Tirith is about to begin."

"The Battle of the Pelennor Fields." Erin said softly.

"Whoa, slow down, what is going on? What is this Battle of the whatever Fields?" Kavila said, brow knitted in confusion.

"The big battle at the pretty white city in the third movie," Erin clarified.

"Oooh, okay, now I'm with you," Kavila exclaimed.

"What is a…movie?" Gandalf asked.

Erin considered for a moment. "Ah…it's a special kind of play. Do you have those here?" she asked, and Gandalf nodded. "Um, well, it's like a play, except…more life-like…oh, I can't explain it," she concluded, grimacing in frustration.

Gandalf looked at them all with a critical gaze. "You are not from any region of Arda, are you?"

Erin glanced at her friends as if seeking permission to continue. Everyone nodded at her. "No, we're not. We're from a world we call Earth. It's…very very different from Middle Earth. We've always thought of places like this as just places in our imagination. We never dreamed they were real." Gandalf seemed to lose himself in thought for a moment.

Adrienne glanced about the room before asking in a low voice, "What of Frodo?"

Gandalf gave her a sharp look, pulled out of his trance by her question. "What do you know of him?" he barked.

Adrienne looked surprised at his harsh tone. "I know that, ah, he was sent on the Quest to…" she looked at him for permission to continue, and he nodded. "to destroy Isildur's Bane."

"How?" Gandalf asked, addressing the entire group.

"There are some books, in our world," Erin began, and a couple of her friends rolled their eyes, no doubt thinking of the many times she had become embroiled in long discussions on this very topic. Erin was easily the most knowledgeable of them when it came to Lord of the Rings. "They tell the events of the War of the Ring and much of the previous history of Middle Earth." She glared at Kavila, who had been rolling her eyes. "See, that was short." Then she turned back to Gandalf, adding, "Kavila hasn't read the books, but I think everyone else here has." Gandalf nodded.

"Do these books of yours tell how the War will end?" he asked.

Erin smiled a little. "They do. But they seem to have been written before the end was determined. Who knows whether they will prove true or false?"

Gandalf smiled back, but his smile was tinged with sadness. "Forgive me. I am merely searching for a spark of hope in these dark times. It seems that they are few and far between."

Erin glanced at her friends, noticing for the first time that their backpacks had arrived with them. "Maybe we can help," she said. "What's the situation?"

Gandalf looked hard at her, as if judging her strength. Erin had to remind herself that women of this time were not as equally regarded as in the 21st century. "The army of Minas Tirith is unprepared for the Orc assault." he finally said, shoulders drooping a little with weariness and despair. "Their lord has already abandoned hope, and the people are not far behind." He seemed to leave unsaid the admission that he too was nearing such a point.

"How many men are there?" Adrienne asked, beginning to catch on to Erin's idea.

"Less than five thousand. Few of the outlying countries have answered the call to arms," Gandalf sighed regretfully. "The Dark Lord's army numbers in the tens of thousands. The men of Gondor are not weak, but they haven't the strength to withstand such an assault."

The girls considered this, all deep in thought. Suddenly an idea occurred to Erin, a thought tugged from the depths of her memory. "What kind of war machines have you got?"

"A few simple catapults." Gandalf replied, regarding her suspiciously. "Why are you asking all of this?"

But by now Erin was too excited to notice his suspicion. "Kavila, do you have your Physics book?" she asked.

"We don't…oh, we _do_ have our backpacks! Yeah, it's in here…" Kavila dug the textbook out of her backpack and passed it to Erin, who handed it to Gandalf. The wizard rose and moved to the desk, and Erin followed him.

"This might give you some ideas on how to improve those catapults. It's a book on Physics, which is…ah…definition, Kavila?" Erin turned back toward her friends.

"The study of movement and force as governed by mathematics," Kavila rattled off.

"Thank you," Erin nodded at her, then turned back to Gandalf, who was already flipping through the pages. "If you need help, you can talk to Kavila, she'll do her best to explain it to you."

"Me!" Kavila exclaimed from behind me. "I don't even get it all!"

"You're the only person here who's taken the class." Erin retorted.

Kavila gave her a sour look, forced to concede the point. "You could have at least asked me," she mumbled.

"And would you have agreed?" Erin asked pointedly, but with a teasing smile on her face.

Kavila burst into indignant laughter. "Did you hear that?" she asked the others. "Did you hear that? Erin Warford, you're so mean to me!"

"Whatever," Erin replied absentmindedly as she came and sat back down with her friends. They were all busily examining the room, marveling at the beautiful décor. The legs of the desk and the bedposts were expertly fashioned, and a white tree was elegantly carved into the headboard of the bed. There were colorful tapestries hung on the walls depicting historic scenes, a few of which Erin found she was even able to identify.

Suddenly Gandalf stood up, yawning. "I fear, my guests, that I am quite exhausted. It is rather late, and I must leave early tomorrow morn."

Sarah's face suddenly took on a worried expression. "Um, you guys, where are we going to sleep?"

Gandalf answered her. "Tonight you may have my bed. I shall be comfortable enough on the floor, but I deem that you are not used to such rough accommodations." He waved off the various protests. "Fear not, tomorrow I believe I can find you a room. Yes, I shall arrange that tomorrow. I must speak with Denethor at dawn, but I will return before noon. Do not leave the room until I return."

"We're going to need a lot more than a room if we're going to stay here," Sarah said, practical as always. "We don't have proper clothes, we don't have any money…"

"Yes, but come now, enough talk. Now is the hour for rest, and tomorrow will be time enough to discuss further." Gandalf said. He spread his cloak on the floor, using his pack as a pillow, and prepared to lie down.

The bed was large, but not large enough for five girls to sleep comfortably, and so they spent a few minutes working out sleeping arrangements. The girls pooled together their collection of jackets and sweaters, and removed a blanket from the bed. They managed to make room for two people to sleep, albeit slightly uncomfortably, with bundles of clothing as pillows and the stone floor as a mattress. After much arguing and repetitions of "No, I'll be fine, _I'll_ sleep on the floor" it was decided that Kavila and Erin would take the floor, and the other three would sleep in the bed.

Just as they were curling up on the bed, the door creaked open. Everyone including Gandalf looked up with alarm, but it was quickly replaced by relief as a three-and-a-half foot tall Halfling stepped inside. All five girls sat up abruptly, faces set in expressions of shock and wonder.

Gandalf rose and embraced the Halfling, ruffling his honey-brown curls affectionately as he noted the Halfling's soldierly uniform. "My dear Peregrin, you seem to have had quite a day," he greeted.

But before the hobbit had a chance to tell Gandalf anything, multiple squeals broke out from the back of the room. "OH MY GOD! IT'S PIPPIN!" The hobbit turned, a puzzled look on his face. "It seems you also have had an interesting day, Gandalf," Pippin said as he regarded the five strange girls.

"Ah yes, I forget myself. Some introductions are necessary!" Gandalf exclaimed.

"It seems all of you know me, but I shall say them anyway. Peregrin Took, hobbit of the Shire, at the service of you and your family," he bowed.

Adrienne leapt off the bed and offered Pippin her hand. The hobbit took it, bewildered, and Adrienne shook it heartily. "Adrienne D. It's a pleasure to meet you, Pippin!" she exclaimed.

The poor hobbit looked a little dazed by her enthusiasm, and more so after the other four girls had introduced themselves in the same fashion. Erin, the last to shake hands with him, laughed as she stepped back. "Forgive us our excitement. We have read of Halflings, and of you, but this is our first time actually meeting a hobbit."

Pippin chuckled. "It would seem you know more of me that I do myself. But I fear you have confused me with another of my family, perhaps. No one has ever written of me. This is my first adventure."

"Um, well, it's a bit of a long story, but basically we aren't from Middle Earth. In our world there are books about this War and about Bilbo's adventure. So we know a little bit about you and the Shire," Erin answered with a smile. Pippin's confusion and wonder were plain on his face.

"And you can explain more tomorrow morn," Gandalf said firmly. "Pippin, be a gentlehobbit and let the ladies have the bed. You can rest on the floor beside me."

"Gentlehobbit!" chuckled Adrienne as she climbed back into the bed. Then Gandalf blew out the candle, and all turned their attentions to finding sleep.

ALL except one, whom sleep eluded. Kavila lay still upon the makeshift bed, trying not to wake Erin with her movements. But though her body was motionless, her mind was whirling with thoughts and questions.

Foremost on her mind was a single question: _How did we end up in Middle-Earth? And just in the nick of time to help with the Battle of the Pelennor Fields! _It was all very suspicious, frankly. _I'm going to wake up any moment now, in my own room, in my world. I'll laugh so hard at myself, laying here thinking it's all real._ But some instinct within her told Kavila this was no dream, and she wouldn't be waking up any time soon in her own room.

Which, in Kavila's eyes, left one utterly implausible answer: magic. All her life Kavila had known with undeniable conviction that magic _was not real_. It was the subject of fairy tales and fantasy novels, not reality. Yet now, if her senses were to be believed, that conviction had been struck down at its very core.

She thought back to the strange events of their "magical" transportation here. The rush of white light, the strange song. None of it made sense, no matter how many different ways she tried to reconcile it with what she knew of reality. She could feel despair closing in, and a homesickness deeper and more painful than anything she had ever experienced. At least if she was in her world, she could go back to her parents at any time. But Kavila suddenly realized, with an ache that brought tears to her eyes, that she would most likely never see her family again. If no one knew how they had arrived here, no one could get them back.

When sleep finally found Kavila, the tear-trails were still fresh upon her cheeks.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I have tried to incorporate some of the book into my story verbatim. I deeply respect J.R.R. Tolkien's work, and am in no way attempting to steal or plagiarize it. I am merely attempting to work my story into his plot, and capture the rich language he uses. A "-----" means that a direct book quote has either begun or ended.

Chapter 2

MEGAN was awakened the next morning by the sharp bite of hunger. She noted to her great surprise that it was still dark, but her stomach was protesting too painfully for her to take advantage of this and sleep some more. _I'll just go downstairs and get a quick snack_, she thought. _That way I can come back and get some more sleep before my alarm goes off_. She looked over toward her alarm clock, hoping that it was only three o' clock ( which would give her another two hours of sleep).

Her clock was not there.

Heart pounding, she started to sit up, and her foot brushed something that felt suspiciously like another person's leg.

Suddenly all the memories came flooding back: their strange arrival in Middle Earth, their discussion with Gandalf, Pippin's appearance…_It's real_, she thought. _It's not a dream_. Part of her wished it were.

"Megan?" Adrienne whispered. "You awake?"

Megan sighed with resignation and replied. "Yeah." It didn't seem like she was going to get any more sleep tonight. Or this morning; maybe someone had closed the curtains.

As if reading her mind, Adrienne asked, "Any idea what time it is?"

"Dinnertime?" Megan answered hopefully as her stomach let loose another loud growl.

"I'm hungry too, but I don't think there's any food in here, and we aren't supposed to leave the room. Remember what Gandalf said," Adrienne replied.

_Oh yes, remember what Gandalf said_, Megan thought somewhat bitterly. He was certainly exactly as Tolkien had described. _Even down to the bushy eyebrows and mysteriousness. I just wish he'd be a little less mysterious, and tell us a little more._ Megan had always valued the feeling of control she drew from making her own decisions, but it seemed Gandalf was taking the situation out of their hands. Certainly they were unfamiliar with Middle Earth's society and customs, but he had basically said "Don't worry at all, I'll take care of everything," without asking them. That was what frustrated Megan.

Suddenly a sleepy voice muttered from the floor, "Where am I?" Adrienne sat up a little more and peered over the foot of the bed. "Morning, Erin," she greeted.

Erin rubbed her eyes, as if making sure they weren't playing tricks on her. "Adrienne?" she said in a puzzled voice.

"Shh!" Adrienne cautioned. "Sarah and Kavila are still sleeping." Erin's eyebrows came together in an expression of bafflement. "Sarah and Kavila?...ohhh yeah…" she ended, her confused look replaced by one of comprehension. Then, finally registering what Adrienne had first said, she whispered, "Good morning. It's dark in here, isn't it?"

"I never knew you were such a morning person," Adrienne replied sarcastically, and Megan laughed.

"Who else is awake? Oh wait, nevermind, you just said that." Erin said, as Adrienne and Megan doubled up with almost silent laughter, trying to keep from waking the others. Despite their efforts, a fourth voice spoke up from the bed. "I'm up, Dad, I'm up…"

Adrienne, Megan, and Erin exchanged glances before breaking into laughter once more. By the time they had gotten control of themselves again, Sarah was sitting up in bed with a bewildered expression on her face. "Adrienne? Erin? Megan? What…ohhhh yeah…" she said as her sleep-hindered mind finally dragged forth her memories of last night.

"See? I'm not the only non-morning person!" Erin declared indignantly, and started to untangle herself from the blanket. Her movements woke Kavila, who sat up with a dazed expression. She, however, did not make a fool of herself by speaking before her memories returned. "Morning everybody!" she said in a surprisingly cheerful voice after rubbing her eyes clear.

"Morning!" chorused four voices in various stages of wakefulness. Kavila stood up, stretched a little, and remarked, "I'm hungry!"

"Well as far as we can tell there's no food, so…" Megan trailed off.

Everyone was silent for a few seconds. "Why don't we see if there's a window we can open?" Erin suggested. All five girls began making their way slowly to the perimeter of the room, feeling their way through the darkness.

Kavila found the wall first, recoiling from the feel of cold stone. She followed the wall, feeling all along it for some sort of fabric that might be a curtain. Cold stone…cold stone…suddenly she cried out as her hand met coarse, thick material. "I think I found it!"

"Where are you?" called Sarah.

In answer Kavila drew back the curtains to reveal the city of Minas Tirith.

"We're not in Kansas any more," she breathed as she caught her first glimpse of the White City.

Their room, it seemed, was in one of the uppermost levels of the city, and commanded a spectacular view. Beneath them the lower levels of the city stretched like giant, uneven steps down the slope to the Pelennor Fields. Far in the distance Kavila could just barely make out the glittering ribbon of the Anduin. People moved hurriedly through the streets below them, mostly men dressed in armor, patrolling or running errands to prepare for the coming battle.

But what struck Kavila most was the sky. A ceiling of roiling black clouds blocked out the sun, casting the land beneath them in the eerie glow of twilight. Fires flickered like sparks in front of every house, making the darkness seem all the more impenetrable.

"Oh my god," whispered Erin as she came to the window, the other three following close behind.

"Why is the sky…" Sarah trailed off, eyes fixed on the clouds.

"It is Sauron's darkness. He seeks to cover the world in it, until the end of time," came a voice behind them. All five girls whirled, exclamations of surprise on their lips that quickly became sighs of relief as Gandalf strode briskly through the doorway.

"Morning to you too," Megan remarked.

"This is not a matter for mirth," the wizard retorted, stalking over to the bed. "Here are some proper clothes for you to wear." He threw a pile of fabric onto the bed. "Dole them out as you see fit."

It was rather plain that the wizard was not in a good mood, but Megan's stomach was being insistent. "Um…you didn't by any chance bring some food back, did you?" she asked tentatively.

"Food?" Gandalf glanced up, then chuckled slightly. "Forgive me, my guests, you will be wanting something to break your fast. I shall go to the mess hall and procure some bread and fruit for you. If they question the amount of food I ask for, I shall merely tell them it is for a hobbit!" He then turned and left, still chuckling.

There was stunned silence for a few moments. "Well, it seems he's in a good mood again," Sarah remarked.

"Talk about mood swings," Adrienne shook her head. "He's worse than my mom!"

Erin had moved to the bed and was sorting through the clothes. "These are going to be so much fun to wear!" she exclaimed with a grin as she held up a periwinkle-colored dress with long, open sleeves.

Kavila grabbed a box that had fallen partway open on the bed. "Oh my god," she breathed as she poured the contents onto the bed. "look at this jewelry!"

Adrienne picked up a silver chain fashioned like a girdle of flowers. "Erin, this would be pretty with that blue dress you had," she said, holding it up. Erin gasped and grabbed it, grinning from ear to ear as she examined it.

Soon everyone had chosen a dress. Kavila had found a dark green dress and a gold leaf brooch. Sarah had chosen a dress of dark blue fabric, cut modestly at the neck, with a silver necklace and bracelet. Adrienne had found a maroon-colored dress with long, flowing sleeves like Erin's, and a gold chain to fasten about her waist. Megan had chosen a dress of fabric similar to Kavila's, but with a simple silver chain patterned with flowing lines.

"Ah…one problem with this," Megan said when they had all chosen dresses, "No dressing room."

Adrienne closed the curtains as best she could and answered, "Everybody take a wall, and just face the wall and change."

"There are only four walls, and five of us," Sarah remarked.

"Well, somebody can share their wall then!" Adrienne retorted.

"I'll stand by the door in case Gandalf comes back," Erin said, and everyone else soon claimed their own area. In a few minutes, the girls had dressed relatively without incident, though all needed help with the fastenings of the garments. They were still putting on their jewelry and fighting for a place in front of the single mirror when Gandalf returned.

"Ah!" he exclaimed as he entered. "I leave behind five plainly dressed girls, and when I return they have become beautiful ladies!"

"We may look like ladies, but we don't have their manners!" replied Adrienne. "Give me some of that food!"

Amid the general laughter and good cheer, all five girls managed to sate their hunger. The fare may have been poor, but it wouldn't have mattered; it was gone in a matter of minutes.

"Hobbits the size of Men!" Gandalf chortled when they were through. "Or at least Men with the stomachs of Hobbits!"

"Ah…we're women, you know…" Kavila said, bewildered.

"He meant the race of Men," Erin whispered in her ear, loud enough that all could hear.

"Oohhh…" Kavila laughed, and everyone joined in. Erin took another swig of wine. "I never knew this stuff was so good!" she exclaimed. "Mom and Dad always made out like it was horrible!"

"Perhaps in your world," Gandalf replied with a chuckle. "In Middle Earth, the making of wine is a fine art."

There was a moment of companionable silence, and then Adrienne asked in an embarrassed tone, "Um…where is the ah…not bathroom, but…"

"Washroom?" Gandalf asked. Adrienne nodded with relief. "Ah, yes, you will be needing to relieve yourselves! Adrienne, I will take you first, and then you may show the others the way. 'Tisn't far."

"Thanks." Adrienne replied, blushing slightly with embarrassment as she rose. The two left the room, turning right down the hallway. As soon as they were out the door, the remaining girls broke into laughter. "Relieve ourselves!" Megan giggled.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. All four girls looked at each other, mirth replaced by alarm. The door opened to admit a plainly dressed man, whom the girls immediately identified as a servant. Erin rose gracefully, infusing a tone of disdainful nonchalance into her voice, "Yes?"

The servant looked quite flustered, probably not expecting to find five finely dressed young women here rather than one white-robed wizard. "Is this the room of the wizard Gandalf?" he inquired.

"It is." Erin replied, while her friends stared at her, surprised by the ease with which she adopted this noble persona.

"When he returns, please inform him that the Lord Denethor requests his presence at once, as well as that of Master Peregrin," the servant said, barely waiting for acknowledgement of his message before he backed hurriedly out of the room.

When Gandalf and Adrienne entered the room, they quickly discerned that something had occurred in their absence. Erin told Gandalf about the servant, and the wizard lapsed into thought. "You cannot stay here much longer, or the Lord Denethor will become suspicious." he said finally. "I shall arrange for you to stay in an inn not far from here, and I shall meet with you there, on the occasions when I am not busy with other matters. In the meantime, I suggest that you remain here. I shall find you some attire more suited to common life, for you will be noticed if you leave this room with those garments. However," he rose and took up his staff, "a summons from the Lord Steward cannot be taken lightly, and I must leave you now. I shall return as soon as I may." And with that, he left.

"Well, looks like we've got some time to kill," Megan sighed.

"Hey Kavila, where's that physics book of yours? We can start working through that, and see if it gives us any ideas," Erin suggested.

"But you haven't taken physics yet!" Kavila said.

"I'm ready and willing to learn," Erin retorted.

"And you want _me_ to teach you?" Kavila said incredulously.

In response, Erin called around the room, "Anyone else here know physics?" Everyone shook their heads. She turned back to Kavila with a triumphant expression.

"I get the point," Kavila sighed. "Okay, let's do it on this desk here." The two girls moved off, leaving Adrienne, Megan, and Sarah to find their own entertainment.

"Anybody got cards?" Sarah asked hopefully.

"Maybe," Megan replied, and walked over to the pile of backpacks. Suddenly she stopped, reaching down and grabbing something that was definitely not a backpack. "Look what else came with us!" she exclaimed, holding up none other than Erin's stereo.

Even Erin and Kavila turned around. "If only we could plug it in…" sighed Kavila wistfully.

"Don't worry, it runs on batteries!" Erin replied with a grin. "We've all got our CD collections too!"

"Watch out Middle Earth, here comes the 21st century!" Adrienne laughed.

"What CDs did you guys bring?" Megan asked Adrienne and Sarah, who promptly began digging in their backpacks for their CD cases. Kavila and Erin turned back to their book, shaking their heads. "Keep it down so we don't attract attention, you guys," Erin gave one last admonition from her seat at the desk, before concentrating once more on the annoyingly complex and numerous equations of physics.

"Who, us?" Megan put on an innocent face before all three broke into laughter. Before long, music was emanating softly from the stereo's speakers.

GANDALF strode briskly down the hall, footsteps echoing harshly against the stone of the passageway. Though he passed several curious servants, he paid them no heed, too immersed in his own thoughts. What could Denethor possibly want him for? Had he found out about the girls? It wouldn't have surprised the wizard, for he had guessed by now that Denethor had one of the lost Seeing Stones in his possession. But if that was so, did that mean Sauron knew of them as well? That could be troublesome. That could be _very_ troublesome.

Suddenly a small figure down the hall caught Gandalf's eye. He came out of his reverie and looked up to find Pippin walking towards him. "Hullo, Gandalf!" said the hobbit when the wizard had reached him. "Where are you going?"

"To answer the Lord's summons," Gandalf replied. "The summons mentioned you as well, so you had better come with me. But I beg you, say nothing of the girls. Or if you must, do not reveal from whence they came. Answer rather that you do not know, if the question is asked."

Pippin fell into step beside the wizard. "How did they come here, Gandalf?" he asked.

Gandalf did not answer at once. "'Twas a gift of the Valar, I think," he said at last, a faraway look cast upon his face. "I felt their song, soft as silk against my skin, and my heart was joyous to hear it. When I opened my eyes, there sat the girls."

Pippin did not speak again for some while. "What do you suppose Lord Denethor will have me do?" the hobbit asked finally, somewhat anxiously.

"Whatever suits his fancy," Gandalf replied without looking at Pippin. "After all," he turned a slightly disapproving look to the hobbit, "you are his sworn servant."

Pippin said no more the rest of the journey.

-----BEFORE long he was walking with Gandalf once more down the cold corridor to the door of the Tower Hall. There Denethor sat in a grey gloom, like an old patient spider; he did not seem to have moved since the day before. He beckoned Gandalf to a seat, but Pippin was left for awhile standing unheeded. Presently the old man turned to him, saying, "Well, Master Peregrin, I hope that you used yesterday to your profit, and to your liking? Though I fear that the board is barer in this city than you could wish."

Pippin had an uncomfortable feeling that most of what he had said or done was somehow known to the Lord of the City, and much was guessed of what he thought as well. He did not answer.

"What would you do in my service?" said Denethor.

"I thought, sir, that you would tell me my duties," Pippin answered.

"I will, when I learn what you are fit for," replied Denethor. "But that I shall learn soonest, maybe, if I keep you beside me. The esquire of my chamber has begged leave to go to the out-garrison, so you shall take his place for awhile. You shall wait on me, bear errands, and talk to me, if war and council leave me any leisure. Can you sing?"

"Yes," said Pippin. "Well, yes, well enough for my own people. But we have no songs fit for great halls and evil times, lord. We seldom sing of anything more terrible than wind or rain."

"And why should such songs be unfit for my halls, or for such hours as these?" Denethor retorted. "We who have lived long under the Shadow may surely listen to echoes from a land untroubled by it? Then we may feel that our vigil was not fruitless, though it may have been thankless."

Pippin's heart sank. He did not relish the idea of singing any song of the Shire to the Lord of Minas Tirith, certainly not the comic ones he knew best; they were too, well, rustic for such an occasion. Yet he was spared the ordeal, for the present. He was not commanded to sing. Denethor turned to Gandalf, asking questions about the Rohirrim.

Presently Denethor waved to Pippin and dismissed him. "Go to the armories of the Citadel," he said, "and get you there the livery and gear of the Tower. It will be ready. It was commanded yesterday. Return when you are clad!"

-The Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

-----

AND so Pippin departed, gratefully leaving the steward and wizard to their planning. Soon afterward Denethor tired of questions about the Rohirrim, and his talk turned abruptly to a subject much less desirable to Gandalf. "My servants have told me of five girls in your room," the Lord stated. Gandalf met his gaze evenly, saying nothing. "Might I ask from whence they came?" Denethor said.

"A faraway land," Gandalf answered.

"And what, pray tell, is your purpose in bringing them here? For I perceive it must have been some wizardry of yours that summoned them so quickly at such a convenient time." Denethor said, a strange glint in his eye.

"They may be useful in the days ahead," Gandalf replied.

"Useful indeed!" Denethor said derisively. "When shall you see it, wizard? You presume to help others who cannot defend themselves by bringing them with you into the heart of the danger! What if they do not wish to be present during such dark times? But they shall be useful, you say. How, if they can wield no weapons?"

"They wield the weapon of the mind. I believe they have knowledge that we may use," Gandalf replied.

"Weapon of the mind!" Denethor exclaimed. "Your tale becomes more incredible each time you speak! They are but young girls!"

Gandalf began to get angry. "They bring knowledge from their land, knowledge that we do not possess! Why should we not use it?" It occurred to him, momentarily, that he echoed the words of Boromir in the Council of Elrond. Though Boromir had spoken of the One Ring, the thought was a sobering reminder that the girls' knowledge must be viewed with caution.

Denethor did not reply for a moment. "Wizard, you shall bring more death than you know," he said finally, tone dark and menacing. "Your foe is greater than you have ever imagined. For each legion that marches to this City, five more remain behind the Gates of Mordor. And when Isildur's Bane is returned to His hand, his power will increase a hundredfold!"

"Faramir fights still, and Theoden's Riders shall come," Gandalf answered.

"Were Theoden to bring me a hundred thousand spears, it would be of no avail against the might of Mordor. And speak not to me of Faramir! Alas, Boromir, now is the hour when your country calls loudest in need, yet you are not here to answer!" said Denethor, and bent his head once more in grief.

Gandalf stood a moment longer before the sorrowful steward. "Hope lives yet, though you know it not, lord, and I hold to it still," the wizard said, his thoughts lingering upon Aragorn.

"Naught but a fool's hope." Denethor said softly, but Gandalf turned and strode from the hall with his head high, paying no heed to the steward's words.

WHEN Gandalf returned to his lodgings, he was greeted by an astonishing picture. There was music playing, somewhere in the room, but none of the girls held any instruments. The wizard was further confused by the fact that the only instrument he recognized in the music was drums, and even these were unlike any drums he had ever heard.

Adrienne, Sarah, and Megan all halted their conversation when he entered, shutting the door quickly behind him. As he looked on with a bewildered frown, Sarah moved backward to reveal the source of the music. However, this only served to confuse him more.

It was a metal box with many odd, raised shapes scattered across it. Sarah pressed one of these with a finger, and the music stopped. There were also two black circles that looked to be made of fine black netting at either end of the metal box.

"It's a stereo, or CD player," Adrienne said, noting his puzzled expression. She pushed another button, and a part on top rose up as if moved by an invisible hand, revealing a metal disk inside. Gandalf stooped closer as Adrienne lifted the metal disk out. "This is a CD," she continued, then paused. The wizard's bewildered look did not change.

"We have a way of…saving music onto these CDs. When you put them in the CD player, it projects them back, as if the musicians were playing right next to you in the room. These buttons," Adrienne indicated the raised circular shapes, "control the music, making it louder or softer, and stopping or playing it." She looked at Gandalf, who nodded hesitantly.

"I believe I understand," he said, "but I cannot imagine it."

"Well that can be remedied!" Megan exclaimed, and replaced the CD. She pressed a button with a strange rune engraved on it, like a triangle pointing to the right with two lines parallel to its smallest side. There was a strange whirring sound, almost like the wind when it is slashed apart with a sword, except lasting much longer. Suddenly Gandalf jumped, startled, as music filled the room. An instrument unlike anything Gandalf had ever heard began to play, bringing to mind a stringed instrument such as a banjo, but bearing only a faint resemblance. A man's voice followed a moment afterward, singing in a strange accent that Gandalf found difficult to understand. _When you feel all alone / and the world has turned its back on you / give me a moment please / to tame your wild wild heart / I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you / it's hard to find relief / and people can be so cold_…Megan pressed the strange button again, and the music stopped, although the stereo continued to make that whirring sound.

Gandalf considered the device a moment more, then stood up with a weary sigh. "That is very interesting, but I am afraid we have some preparations that must be made." The girls noticed that he carried a pack which seemed rather full. He moved to the bed and set it down, quickly tossing out many different bits of clothing, all of much more coarse fabric and faded color than the dresses the girls were wearing. "I have arranged for you to stay in an inn on the third level. I shall draw you a map of the city while you change into these clothes," he indicated the garments he had just brought back. Several of the girls threw him resentful looks, and he chuckled, "Much as I enjoy the company of five such finely dressed women, you shall draw too much attention if you go to the inn clothed like that. Fear not, I will keep the garments in this room, and perhaps an occasion will arise when you may don them once more."

Erin sighed. "Adrienne, you'll have to show us how to get to the washroom, so we can all change." Gandalf moved to the desk, drew out a sheet of parchment and a quill, and began sketching as the five girls started down the corridor.

Erin walked briskly through the halls behind Adrienne, thoroughly enjoying the feel of being in a castle. She was loving this experience, though homesickness did catch up to her once in awhile. Much as she disliked the admission, having chafed to escape from her family while she was home, she missed her parents and sister. She tried to imagine what her little sister's reaction would have been to this experience, and found herself smiling. Kelsey would have been delighted to dress up like they had this morning. But on the other hand, this would not have been a good time for an eight-year-old girl to live in Minas Tirith, with the impending siege. No, it was probably best her family was safely at home in their world.

The girls reached the washroom, Erin surprised to find a carved stone bathtub rather than some small wooden tub. There was also a wooden basin for washing one's face and hands, and a small closet off to one side in which was kept…a very primitive-looking toilet? It was a mere hole in the floor with a chain hanging above it, yet it astonished Erin even more. She had not considered that Middle Earth's technology would have gone quite this far.

Adrienne came up behind her, saying, "Gandalf called it a water closet. He said that only the king's palace and a few of the wealthiest lords have them. Here, this is how you use it." Adrienne showed Erin how to pull the lever to release a current of water into the hole from a valve in the wall behind it. "Clever," said Erin with a smile. She closed the door and tried it herself, then changed clothes quickly. When she came out, her friends were taking turns washing hands and faces, vainly attempting to straighten their unruly masses of hair. A night and morning without a hairbrush was already taking its toll on them. Erin vaguely wondered what their hair would look like in a few days, then decided to abandon that track of thought. Hopefully they could just ask Gandalf to buy a hairbrush. If not, well, Erin supposed they would look the part of commoners.

Finally all four of the others had used the water closet and changed clothes. They hurried back to the room, praying the entire journey that they would run into no servants. Their luck held, and when they had safely reached the room, all five let out sighs of relief. Gandalf turned from his seat. "Ah," he said, smiling. "It seems you are ready to go to your lodging. Here is the map I have drawn, with all seven levels of the city. I have marked places you may want to visit, such as the armory and library." He placed them carefully in the pack, then returned to the desk and picked up Kavila's physics book, which he also packed. "I will come to you when I can, and hear any ideas you have found for the city's defense," he said. "I have also written notes of permission so that you may be allowed into the library and other such places. Though I am not lord here, I do command a certain amount of respect, and such a note should gain you entrance and quiet any suspicions." He held the pack out, and Sarah took it, while the others each grabbed their backpacks. But Gandalf shook his head and said, "Leave those packs here; they shall be noticed." Then all was ready, and they departed.

As they walked through the streets, Erin was amazed at the diversity the White City had managed to achieve. Though Kavila and Megan's somewhat dark skin stood out among the fair-skinned Gondorians, there were a few others similar to them in looks, and the Men of the White City did not confront them. For the most part the diversity was in the culture, the wares being sold and the accents of the merchants. Everything from jewelry to weaponry to livestock was sold in the many markets the five friends passed on the way to their inn.

Nevertheless, though they were not confronted, all five girls could feel the stares being directed their way. The people of Minas Tirith took interest in travelers as exotic as they seemed to be: five young girls, who should have been settling down in a peaceful marriage, dressed in ragged traveling clothes and led by the renowned wizard Gandalf the White. There was a tale worth telling there, make no mistake, the townspeople whispered. Erin supposed they probably would have gone less noticed if Gandalf had not been with them, but he was well-known and respected among the people.

As Erin's eyes drifted from the streets about them to the country surrounding the city, she drew an involuntary breath of wonder. The White Mountains were stunning, even in the near-darkness. They were rough and jagged as if carved by an inexperienced stoneworker, more wild-seeming than the Rockies. The white of their snows was the same color as the stone of the city, which Erin found to be more breathtaking from here than from the window of Gandalf's room. The full expanse of the city could now be seen, with its jutting precipice like the bow of a ship sailing from the mountain waves. Erin found herself wishing suddenly that the sun would shine down upon the white walls and reveal the city in its full glory.

All too soon Gandalf turned down a narrow, high-walled alley, blocking the awe-inspiring view. He took a few quick turns, passing under laundry strung out to dry and other marks of a common lifestyle. Then he stopped next to a stone wall, turning to face them.

"One of the maps I have included contains this path. It leads to the backdoor of the inn, which I would advise that you use. Denethor is highly suspicious of you, and I would keep your activities as much of a secret as possible." He turned his attention to Kavila and Megan. "You at least, Kavila, will need to stay indoors. I do not think it is particularly advisable for you to be out in the city during these times." He received five bewildered looks, and sighed. "Sauron has drawn many Men to his army, and some of them are similarly dark-skinned. Since most Gondorians are unfamiliar with their customs, it would be all too easy for the people of Minas Tirith to jump to conclusions and brand you a spy." The wizard held up a hand, forestalling her protests. "Take your chances if you will, but I plan to tell Aragorn and the others of your involvement after the battle, and then you would be able to wander the city freely, without fear of attack or false accusations." He looked critically at Megan. "I believe you can pass for a very sunbrowned country girl. But avoid speaking; your accent will raise questions, unless you can learn to speak like the people of Minas Tirith."

"Ah, Gandalf, can we go inside?" Sarah asked before he could continue. "My back is killing me. You'd think this backpack had more in it than just a textbook and some scrolls."

He laughed merrily. "Indeed we can! Watch carefully, all of you!" The wizard reached down into a crack in the stone that was virtually invisible unless one were looking directly into it. Then he pulled back, and the door opened easily, with a creak of…wood? Yes, Erin found as they filed inside, the door was merely (and quite skillfully) painted to resemble stone. The backdoor of this inn, it seemed, was not often used. They went a few steps down a narrow hallway, at the other end of which was a second door. Erin thought she heard a woman singing and the sound of a broom being swept across the floor. That must be the common room.

Instead, Gandalf led them up a stairway to the left, at the top of which was another, slightly shorter hallway. There were more doors here, and Erin caught a glimpse of a bed and table as they walked past the first door. Gandalf stopped at the second door on the right, motioning for the girls to precede him into the room.

It was small and cramped, with a single bed and a low table. There was no window, but there was a rug on the floor and a basin in the corner for washing.

"Half of you will stay here," Gandalf said, as the five girls filed into the room. "and the rest of you in the next room. If you wish for a bath, one of the maids will bring you a tub and some warm water." He tossed a pouch of coins to Erin. "Each room costs five silver a night, including three meals. Anything else: a bath, extra drinks, and so on, will require more coin. I believe that should be enough, for a few days at least."

"Don't think you'll have to worry about the drinks thing," Kavila said with a laugh.

Gandalf did not smile. "Nor do I. In fact, it would be best if you all stayed out of the common room during the evenings, I think. Have your suppers brought to your rooms. I must go, I have business to attend to. I will meet with you this afternoon, if I can." He nodded to each of them, and then swept out the door in a flurry of white robes.

The girls stood silently for a few moments. Finally Erin said, "Kavila and I ought to room together, since we'll be studying together. We may be up late studying, so it's probably better if you three room together." She indicated Adrienne, Sarah, and Megan, and they nodded. "We'll take the other room," said Adrienne. Then they left, leaving the pack with maps and physics book in Erin and Kavila's room.

"Well, we'd best get studying," said Erin with somewhat forced enthusiasm. Her first taste of physics back in Gandalf's room had not sparked her interest. "I don't know how long we have until this battle, but I think it might be as little as three days."

"Wait, let me look this stuff over by myself for a couple of hours," said Kavila. "We're getting to the stuff I didn't really understand first semester. I'll see if I get it better the second time through."

"All right," Erin said a little reluctantly. "But only a couple of hours. I think I'll go to the armory and see if any of the weapons can give me an idea."

At that moment, a horn call sounded loud and clear, ending on a high note. Erin and Kavila looked at each other in surprise. "I wonder what that was," Erin said.

"Come on, let's go see!" called Adrienne as the other three girls rushed past their door.

"Whoa, wait, we need the map. Whoever's got the map goes in front!" Erin said, digging through the pack Gandalf had given them.

The seemingly winding path Gandalf had led them on to get to this backdoor really wasn't all that complicated, as the girls found when they navigated their way out in under a minute. They immediately ran to the nearest battlement, looking down into the Pelennor Fields.

There they saw the Fields spread out below them. In the air over the Fields swooped five of the Nazgul, their steeds screeching aloud. Fear gripped the hearts of the five girls with icy fingers, blanketing their minds, scattering and slowing their thoughts. Kavila and Sarah dropped down behind the stone wall with a cry. Adrienne, Megan, and Erin crouched down reflexively as one of the fell riders swooped near, peeking over the wall.

The Nazgul seemed to be harassing something upon the ground, Erin saw. But the darkness made it hard to tell what it was, and Erin stood up a little more to get a better view. Finally she made out some figures on horseback, and as they neared, she saw there were four of them. _Five Nazgul against four mortal horsemen; certainly not good odds_, Erin thought.

Suddenly one of the Nazgul made a quick turn, flying almost level with Erin. Adrienne and Megan flattened themselves against the wall, but Erin was frozen with terror. She knew she should get down, but her body was no longer under her command. Time seemed to slow as she watched, her horror growing until she felt she could not stand another moment.

The wraith turned its head and looked at her.

It seized her stare and held it in an iron grip of terror that she could not break away from. The distance between them seemed to narrow, until she could see the empty darkness within the wraith's cowl, the plates of the mailed hand reaching out toward her. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she felt a coldness seep into her mind, tendrils of frigid fear weaving through her thoughts, drawing them out like water from a faucet.

Then the wraith broke the connection, swooping away.

Erin slumped against the stone, breathing heavily as relief robbed her of her strength and the breath she had been unconsciously holding. Beneath her a white flash caught her eye, speeding across the dark plain toward the four horsemen. "Gandalf!" she whispered, and all but Kavila rose and peered over the wall. "That's Faramir!" gasped Adrienne as she recalled this exact scene in the books.

A pure, white light shot out from the wizard's staff, and the Nazgul wheeled away, screeching with anger. It was not yet time for them to confront the White Wizard, and so they left the four horsemen to reach the Gate in peace, Gandalf at the head.

Erin was still trembling when she turned from the battlement, sinking down beside Kavila, taking comfort in the sturdy stone at her back. She took a shaky breath and cleared her throat, turning to Kavila, who was curled into a tight ball pressed into the wall as if she wanted nothing more than to disappear into it. "Kavila," Erin said softly, "they're gone now. It's all clear."

Kavila took a few seconds to uncurl, whispering in a terrified voice, "They're gone? Are you sure?"

Erin put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure. You can see for yourself."

Kavila shook her head vehemently. "Let's just go back to the room."

"Sounds good," Erin smiled. "Hey everybody, let's head back to the room. I don't think Gandalf will be coming to see us any time soon."

"Why?" asked Kavila.

"Faramir just sent a certain two hobbits on their way a few days ago," Erin replied softly. "I daresay Gandalf will want to hear his report."

When they reached the first room, the friends stopped, reluctant to separate. "I'm going to make a trip to the armory." Erin announced. "Who wants to come with me?"

"Oooh! I do!" Adrienne exclaimed, her face immediately brightening at the prospect.

Erin laughed. "I thought you'd like that idea! For everyone else, the rest of the maps are in me and Kavila's room, in case you want to find some way to entertain yourselves."

"Yeah, you guys go have fun with all the sharp, pointy things, and I'll stay here with my nice, blunt physics book," Kavila said.

Erin slipped into the room, returning a moment later with the map and Gandalf's note. "Let's go, Adrienne!"

THE armory was on the fifth level of the city, along with the other artisans' shops. The girls passed many shops selling weaponry and armor, but they nearly missed the entrance to the armory. It was set back from the street, down a narrow stairway. Erin tucked the map away within her shirt, giving Adrienne a brief, excited grin before opening the door.

The moment she stepped inside, Erin's mouth fell open in wonder. The armory itself was not particularly large, but it was certainly well-stocked with the tools of war. On the wall to her left were hung crossbows and longbows, along with quivers full of arrows and bolts. On the back wall were swords, pikes, and knives, every type of blade Erin had ever imagined, flickering torchlight dancing hypnotically across their surfaces. And along the wall to the right were shelves stacked with the livery of the guards, and suits of armor decorated with the White Tree of Gondor. A door in the back wall led onto a small sanded area used for practice, Erin guessed.

Suddenly a robust man dressed in the tunic of a Guard stepped through the door. "Hello! My name is Vilad. I apologize for the wait, but I was—" he trailed off as he realized that Erin and Adrienne were not typical soldiers come for a new weapon or breastplate.

Erin stepped forward. "Hello. We are friends of Gandalf the White."

"You're women! You shouldn't be here! Weapons like these are too dangerous for women to use!" the man sputtered. Erin made an effort to keep her face schooled in a pleasant expression, despite her anger at the man's ignorant comments. He obviously had not heard of the Shieldmaiden of Rohan.

"We've permission from Gandalf the White to be here, sir." she said, handing him the note. He read it through quickly.

"So, I'm to give you some basic lessons in archery and swordfighting, am I?" he muttered. "Well, you know what you can tell that damned wizard? We're on the brink of war here, and I've no time to be teaching young women the arts of battle!"

"He said you're to teach us archery, did he?" Erin remarked offhandedly, ignoring the man's other comments. "Well I don't know that you'll need to worry about that part, for me at least. I have already been taught archery." The man gave her a surprised look, but she continued obliviously. "Have you got a target?"

He nodded, making a vague motion toward the door. Erin stepped out briefly, looking at the target. It had five rings, each perhaps three inches wide. "Tell you what," she said. "If I can hit within the first two rings, using one of your bows, then you give my friend and I crossbow and sword lessons. I get three practice shots maximum, and I shoot from a distance of 50 feet. Deal?"

The man gave her a skeptical look. "Fine," he said briefly. Erin walked to the wall with the longbows. She stood for a moment, marveling at the beauty of the wood and the delicate arches of the limbs. "Are they all the same weight to pull?" she asked. The man nodded, obviously surprised that she had thought to ask. She grabbed the nearest bow and quiver, slinging the quiver into place so that she could reach the arrows easily by reaching over her right shoulder. The bow was taller than she was by a few inches, and she knew immediately that it would be much more difficult to pull back than her bow at home. The taller the bow, the more weight one had to pull back when one drew the string. Her bow at home was perhaps six inches shorter than this one, and definitely much lighter in weight.

Not for the first time, Erin secretly cursed herself. If she lost this bet, she and Adrienne would be laughed out of here, especially if she lost it because she couldn't even draw the bow. She had never been outstanding at archery, even with her own bow, and this one would be much harder to shoot. But she kept her expression optimistic and her head high as she made her way to the practice area.

She went up to the target, then measured out approximately fifty feet, marking it with a line in the sand. Facing the target, Erin called to mind every bit of advice her instructor had ever given her. Plant your feet firmly. Nock the arrow. Make certain the cock feather points out. Bring the bow up, tilted slightly to the right. Hold the arrow to the string with one finger above the arrow, and two below. Aim carefully. Hold your left arm steady, right arm with the elbow level rather than pointing at the sky. Pull back until your middle finger touches the corner of your mouth. Release, and don't pluck the string. Hold your left arm steady as the arrow releases.

It was as if the arrow were flying in slow motion. Erin saw it arc gracefully, white feathers nearly invisible. She heard the thud as it hit the target, but in the darkness she couldn't tell where it had landed. She brought the bow to her side, flexing her arm as she walked to the target. She almost hadn't been able to pull it back once, but she still had two practice shots left, and then the last shot, the one that counted. Erin knew her arm would probably be too tired to pull it by then. She might have to limit herself to two practice shots.

The arrow was imbedded in the upper left edge of the target.

Not good, since she was supposed to be hitting the inner two rings, not the outer two. Erin wasn't used to this bow at all, and it was showing. Normally she would draw the string back, hold it while she aimed, and then fire after a few seconds. But she wasn't able to hold the string on this bow back for more than a second before her arm started to shake with fatigue. She had to aim before she drew, and that change in technique was throwing her off.

_Oh, stop it_, Erin told herself. _You would have been just fine with your bow shooting at this target, and this bow is only twenty pounds or so heavier. You're no wimp. With a little practice you can hit that target just fine. And you're getting your little practice right now. So concentrate, and you can do it._ Once again she took up her stance, adjusting her aim according to her last shot. _Pull back, keep the bow steady, and let go. Make it smooth_. She braced her shoulders, straightened her left arm, and pulled as hard as she could. The bow shook slightly, but she held her breath and let go. The arrow shot smoothly off the bow, and once again the dull thud echoed back to her. For the second time, she made the short journey down to the target.

The arrow had hit low in the fourth circle.

Erin sighed with frustration, letting go a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She had overadjusted. If the arrow had flown a foot higher, it would have hit the bullseye, but her aim had been low. Perfectly centered horizontally, but low. She rotated her right wrist, pain shooting up her arm. Her arm was going to be limp and useless by the time she was done with this. The first digit of her middle finger was numb and tingling, unused to shooting without a finger glove for protection.

Erin pulled the arrow out and went back to the line.

She stood for awhile, debating. Should she take one more practice shot, and risk being too tired to shoot the last arrow, or shoot the last one now, and risk not hitting it because she hadn't practiced enough? Back in her world, when she went to her archery league, they shot thirty-six arrows in groups of six. The pattern of her scores had always been annoyingly predictable: low in the first third as she warmed up, higher in the second, and lower in the last third as she tired out. The memory clinched her decision.

Erin took a deep breath and called out, "I'm going to skip the third practice shot!" Though she couldn't hear Adrienne's reaction, Erin could almost see her astonished expression. Skipping the third practice shot, when she hadn't looked all that happy after the first two? "What are you thinking?" Adrienne would have said. But Adrienne didn't know how difficult it was to pull this bow back just three times.

Erin's left hand hurt from the shock of the bow's release, without a proper grip and other modern technologies to reduce it. She ignored the discomfort, nocking a third arrow. Her heart was pounding with anticipation and anxiety, her breath coming short. She took a few deep, calming breaths. _You can do this_. Erin brought the bow up and aimed, trying to find a middle ground between her aim on the two practice shots. She took one last breath, holding it. Then, bracing her shoulders, Erin drew the bow. It shook in her hand as if she were shivering with cold, but she wasn't paying attention to the bow. Her gaze was centered on the bullseye of that target, as she recalled something her instructor had said. "Your arrow will follow your eye. If you look up, the arrow will fly high. If you look at the target, you'll hit it."

The arrow left the string with a twang, sliding smoothly off the bow and into the air. Erin watched it disintegrate into the darkness, unable to follow its progress to the target, still holding her breath. The sound of its impact filtered back to her through the heavy air, and she released the breath, bringing the bow down. She moved slowly forward, half afraid to see the target, to see that she had let Adrienne down by losing the bet. She heard movement behind her, and turned to find Adrienne and Vilad crossing the practice field. They fell into step on either side of her. Erin didn't look at them.

A few more feet, and Erin could just barely make out the lines on the target. But the arrow was still invisible. She moved closer, the other two right behind her. There! A dark line sticking out of the target…

The arrow had pierced the line between the bullseye and the second circle.

Erin felt a wave of relief wash over her, and her knees went weak. That shot had been the passport to something she had dreamed of doing ever since she was little: learning swordfighting. If she had missed it…the disappointment would have been crushing, to say the least.

But she hadn't missed it. Erin could tell when Adrienne and Vilad saw the arrow. Adrienne gave a delighted gasp and hugged her, while Vilad chuckled. "I didn't believe you before, lass, but that's a mighty good shot. Well done. When do you want to start the lessons?"

Adrienne grinned at Erin. "Why not today?"

Erin returned the smile as the weaponsmaster replied, "Why not indeed! Come back to the armory, and we shall begin!"

Note: Those of you reviewers who would know, please tell me if the rate for the inn seems reasonable, and if not, what a more reasonable rate would be. I agonized over this the entire time I was writing the chapter, and I kept going back and changing it. The inn isn't fancy, but it's clean and well-managed.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

MEGAN paced around the room she shared with Adrienne and Sarah, who was currently napping on the bed. There was no escaping it; she was bored stiff. The stereo was in Gandalf's room, along with her personal CD player and music, as well as any other potential forms of amusement stored within her backpack. There wasn't even a single damn window to look out of in this room!

Heaving a mental sigh, Megan turned and left the room, shutting the door behind her. She walked down the hall to the door of Kavila and Erin's room, which was most of the way shut, leaving a small slash of candlelight on the floor. Erin was gone and Kavila was studying, but at least Kavila was awake. Pushing the door open with a creak, she stepped inside.

Kavila was crouched awkwardly over the low table, physics book open in front of her. Megan threw herself onto the bed as Kavila looked up from her book. "Hi Megan," Kavila greeted.

"Hi. I'm bored." replied Megan. "What're you doing?"

Kavila grimaced. "Trying to work out this physics so I can explain it to Erin and Gandalf."

"Fun," Megan remarked.

"Oh yeah. Exactly what I'd choose to do with my time," Kavila replied in the same tone. "If I wasn't cooped up in this stupid room…I'm sure it's considered a very nice room by most people, but I wanna see the city!" she exclaimed. "Gandalf said I have to stay in the room though, and it's not like I have anything better to do while I'm here than study."

Megan glanced around the room, not surprised to see that it was exactly the same as her room. Suddenly her gaze fell on the pack, a rolled-up piece of parchment sticking out of it, and it occurred to her that Gandalf had not forbidden her to leave the inn. She hurried over to the maps, spreading them out on the floor.

Gandalf had drawn a map for each level of the city. They were not particularly well-detailed, and it was rather obvious they had been made in a hurry. But Megan was able to figure out the general organization of the city, and the location of a few key places.

The first level of the city was booths and shops, as well as the famed Gate. The second and fourth levels contained the houses of the lower classes, while the noblemen and wealthy lived in the sixth level. The third level held more shops, as well as most of the city's taverns and inns. The Citadel comprised the seventh level, and it was in the basement of the palace that the library was kept. Erin and Adrienne had taken the map of the fifth level, which must be the location of the armory and, most likely, the barracks as well.

Megan considered the maps. It looked as though she could either wander the shops of the first and third levels, or try to get into the library. Considering the fact she was dressed as a commoner, and looked more like a servant than anything else, Megan figured she would have a hard time getting into the library, even with Gandalf's note. Thus, she opted to head for the first level of the city. She took a couple of coins, just in case she got hungry or thirsty, and headed out.

There was a palpable sense of foreboding over the city of Minas Tirith. The merchantmen had all been forced into the city as a result of the coming battle, and were hawking their wares as best they could. But the people of the city were reluctant to spend their money on exquisite cloths or bejeweled knives, preferring rather to save it in case the battle forced them to flee their homes.

But though they were not buying the goods, the people were desperate for a way to forget the shadow of fear hanging over them, if only temporarily. The streets were crowded with anxious faces, nervous expressions replaced by looks of wonder for a few moments as they watched the magician or handled a swath of sky-blue silk.

The wares were certainly something to gawk at. In a matter of minutes Megan passed booths selling delicately crafted jewelry with iridescent gems, dozens of different breads with deliciously tempting aromas, and instruments ranging from drums to harps, not to mention the fire-eater and juggler. It was a much different (and better) experience than shopping at the local mall, Megan thought.

She wandered over to a brightly and rather tastelessly dressed man who had gathered a large crowd, wondering what his trade was. As she neared, she realized there was a sign hanging behind him that read:

Garoldor The Magnificent Magician

Renowned Throughout The World

For His Wizarding Abilities

Megan chuckled a little to herself as she made her way into the crowd, wondering what Gandalf would say if he saw the man. _Renowned throughout the world, is he. Bet he's never been to the Shire_, Megan thought. She watched as he began his next trick. "Behold, ladies and gentlemen, as Garoldor the Magnificent Magician performs his greatest feat: I will make fire spring from my hand, obedient to my command. And this is no fire that you find in your fireplace at home; this is magical fire!" With that he held his hands dramatically above his head, cupped as if to accept an offering from the heavens. "Behold!" he called, and at that moment green fire appeared between his hands.

The crowd gasped in awe, but Megan could barely keep from laughing aloud. She had seen his thumb move the instant before the flame appeared, and it was her guess that he had used some sort of lighter and a piece of copper. The man cried "Be gone!" and the fire was extinguished. The crowd roared with applause, and Garoldor smiled charmingly at them as a few people threw coins into the bowl sitting on a stool to the side. Megan chuckled derisively at their gullibility, having seen the "magician's" finger move just as he spoke, presumably to turn off whatever lighting device he had used.

Suddenly Megan heard Garoldor shout, "Hey you! Come here!" She realized with a start that he was looking at her, and had noticed her derogatory expression. Before she could slip away, several people behind her shoved her forward into the ring. The magician grabbed her arm and pulled her to his side. "Here you see one who doubts my claims!" he called, and the crowd murmured disapprovingly. "But I shall prove her doubts wrong! Have you a coin, child?" Megan stepped away from him, tearing her arm from his grip. "No way, you fraud! I'm not giving you any of my money!" she exclaimed. The crowd fell completely, eerily silent, waiting for Garoldor's reply. "Oh, come, you know not what you say!" he cried, reaching into the bowl for a coin and displaying it high above his head for all to see. "I shall make this coin disappear!" The crowd held their breath as he curled his hand in toward his sleeve and back out again, so that his palm faced outward to the crowd. He wiggled his fingers to show that the coin was not hidden within, and the people once again cried aloud in wonder. Garoldor held up a hand in a plea for silence, and once the crowed had quieted, he reached behind his ear and pulled forth the coin.

Megan's dubious expression did not change. "Do it again!" Garoldor smiled and quickly did so. But this time, when he held his hand out to show that the coin had disappeared, Megan reached up and pulled back the sleeve of his robes. Sewn into the inside of the sleeve, plain for all to see if one only drew back the fabric, was a large pocket. Megan reached inside it and pulled out the coin, displaying it for the crowd to see.

Angry and surprised murmurs grew in volume as the crowd wondered at the deception. "How'd he pull it out of 'is ear?" called one woman. "The scoundrel! We should take our money back, and more besides!" yelled another young man.

This time it was Megan who held up a hand in a plea for silence. "Just before he reached up to "pull" the coin out of his ear, he let his arm fall to his side, like this," Megan demonstrated. "The coin fell into his hand, and when he reached behind his ear, he just had to shift it from his palm to his fingers."

There was silence for a few moments, and then the angry mutters returned. "No one should get away with that!" cried one woman. "'E's a thief an' a cheat!" called another. Suddenly one boy surged forward toward Garoldor, and the rest followed in a wave of angry faces. In the ensuing chaos, Megan managed to escape into a doorway directly behind her, hurriedly hiding herself behind a stack of books within the shop.

The storekeeper came to the door and looked out, a slightly plump older man with greying hair. Megan tried to squeeze herself further behind the books.

"So you're the one who started all this," he said, still watching the proceedings outside, but obviously speaking to Megan.

"Not really, sir," she started.

"You had the nerve to prove his 'magic' false," the storekeeper pointed out, turning his gaze to her. She scooted partway out from behind the books, feeling it improper to hide from this apparently kind old man, who also seemed to distrust the street magician.

"I hadn't really planned to say anything, sir," Megan said. "He pulled me out of the crowd."

The storekeeper grunted in reply, turning away and moving back into his store. "If you want to buy anything, I'll be in the back."

Once the man had gone Megan looked around the store, ignoring the commotion outside. He sold mostly furniture, but there were odds and ends piled in corners throughout the store, including several stacks of books.

Megan glanced briefly at the pile she had hidden behind. There were several books that she surmised were novels of the time, some history books, and some other reference books; mostly nonfiction tomes.

But just as she was about to turn away, one title caught Megan's eye: Herbs and Their Uses in Treating Common Ills. Megan had always been interested in herbal medicine, and considered herself fairly good with herbs. Carefully removing the tome from the stack, she began to flip through it.

Megan was surprised to see many familiar plants drawn carefully within the pages, their healing powers detailed beside it in almost ridiculous detail. She didn't recognize any of the plant names, but she found that some of them sounded rather similar to modern names.

Closing the book with a snap, Megan made her way to the back of the store. She would need something to do back at the inn, after all. The storekeeper was working on a chair, carefully carving out the legs and fitting them to the seat. Megan cleared her throat softly, and he looked up. "Do you want to buy something?" he asked.

"Depends on how much you'll sell this for," Megan answered, showing him the book.

"Ah!" he said, nodding. "'Tis a fairly common book, and that copy is rather aged. I should say one silver for it."

Megan quickly handed over the coin, smiling at the shopkeeper. "Thank you, sir. I'll enjoy this book." Then she left the store, quickly returning to the inn with her new entertainment.

"NOW, lass, this is the crossbow bolt. Here's the point, the fletching, the shaft, and the nock," Vilad said, pointing to each part of the bolt as he named it. Erin and Adrienne nodded from their positions on either side of him. Then he reached down the crossbow, which he had braced against the ground at an angle so that he could more easily draw back the string. "Now, see here, you pull this string back until it slips into this little niche, the rolling block. Bracing this stirrup against something like the ground or a battlement will make it easier." He pointed to an iron bar bent into a rectangle that was attached to the end of the crossbow. "Then put the arrow here," he continued, pulling the crosswise string behind a tiny, slightly curved piece of wood protruding from the main shaft of the crossbow. The bolt he placed in a trench-like indentation running the length of the crossbow's main shaft. "Then you hold it like so," he demonstrated, positioning it so that the main shaft rested on his outstretched left arm, leaving his right arm free to fire and reload the weapon. He aimed it briefly, then continued, "Reach down here and pull this trigger, and it lowers the rolling block and releases the string. See?" he glanced briefly at the girls, then shot the crossbow. All three heard the bolt bury itself in the target, though in the darkness none of them could tell where.

Vilad stepped back, handing the crossbow and one bolt to Adrienne. She stepped up to the line, fumbling awkwardly with the unfamiliar weapon. Erin watched with amusement; she had taken Adrienne to the archery range and let her shoot a full-sized bow once, but other than that Adrienne had little experience with ranged weapons.

Adrienne loaded the crossbow, lifting it to her shoulder. She held it like a rifle, with the butt against her shoulder. Vilad immediately stepped up beside her, moving it lower and adjusting her grip on it. Then he moved away, and Adrienne aimed and fired.

The sharp crack as the bolt lodged itself in the wooden fence reverberated throughout the practice ground. Adrienne handed the crossbow back to Vilad with a sheepish grin, but Vilad merely said, "Crossbows are difficult to shoot because one must adjust to aiming not at eye level, but much lower. The bolt is not at eye level, and so you cannot aim as you would were you shooting a longbow. Thus beginners usually have a tendency to aim high. With practice, you will adjust." Then he handed the weapon to Erin.

Erin's stomach chose that moment to protest its emptiness with a loud growl. Vilad laughed, taking back the crossbow and moving toward the armory door. "We shall continue these lessons later. It is time for the noon meal! Will you come with me to the mess hall, and tell me more of yourselves? Surely you must have a tale to tell, since Gandalf has taken such interest in you."

Adrienne looked to Erin, who shook her head. "I think we should return to our room and see if Gandalf has left any further messages for us," she said. "But thank you for the invitation."

Vilad chuckled again. "You are most welcome. I will be rather occupied this afternoon, what with soldiers practicing and needing new livery and armor. But if you were to return this evening, I might be able to spare some time to teach you the sword."

"We will!" Adrienne called as she and Erin reached the door. "Thank you, Master Vilad!"

Once they were outside, Adrienne turned to Erin. "Why couldn't we have gone to lunch? I thought Gandalf was going to be busy all morning!"

"I've got something to tell Kavila," Erin replied. "Working with those crossbows gave me an idea. Besides, we ought to check in and see if anyone else has found anything interesting." She set off briskly down the street, and Adrienne followed close behind.

-----SO at length Faramir, Gandalf, and Pippin came to the private chamber of the Lord of the City. There deep seats were set about a brazier of charcoal; and wine was brought; and there Pippin, hardly noticed, stood behind the chair of Denethor and felt his weariness little, so eagerly did he listen to all that was said.

When Faramir had taken white bread and drunk a draught of wine, he sat upon a low chair at his father's left hand. Removed a little upon the other side sat Gandalf in a chair of carven wood; and he seemed at first to be asleep. For at the beginning Faramir spoke only of the errand upon which he had been sent out ten days before, and he brought tidings of Ithilien and of movements of the Enemy and his allies.

Then suddenly Faramir looked at Pippin. "But now we come to strange matters," he said. "For this is not the first Halfling that I have seen walking out of northern legends into the Southlands."

At that Gandalf sat up and gripped the arms of his chair; but he said nothing, and with a look stopped the exclamation on Pippin's lips. Denethor looked at their faces and nodded his head, as though in sign that he had read much there before it was spoken. Slowly, while the others sat silent and still, Faramir told his tale, with his eyes for the most part on Gandalf, though now and again his glance strayed to Pippin, as if to refresh his memory of others that he had seen.

As his story was unfolded of his meeting with Frodo and his servant and of the events at Henneth Annun, Pippin became aware that Gandalf's hands were trembling as they clutched the carven wood. White they seemed now and very old, and as he looked at them, suddenly with a thrill of fear Pippin knew that Gandalf, Gandalf himself, was troubled, even afraid. The air of the room was close and still. At last when Faramir spoke of his parting with the travelers, and of their resolve to go to Cirith Ungol, his voice fell, and he shook his head and sighed. Then Gandalf sprang up.

"Cirith Ungol? Morgul Vale?" he said. "The time, Faramir, the time? When did you part with them? When would they reach that accursed valley?"

"I parted with them in the morning two days ago," said Faramir. "It is fifteen leagues thence to the vale of the Morgulduin, if they went straight south; and then they would be still five leagues westward of the accursed Tower. At swiftest they could not come there before today, and maybe they have not yet come there yet. Indeed I see what you fear. But the darkness is not due to their venture. It began yestereve, and all Ithilien was under shadow last night. It is clear to me that the Enemy has long planned an assault on us, and its hour had already been determined before ever the travelers left my keeping."

- The Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

-----

WHEN the two girls finally reached Erin and Kavila's room, they were slightly surprised to find Megan there as well. And Megan was…reading? Adrienne looked again; yes, she was reading. But when Adrienne had left this morning there was only one book, which Kavila was currently studying. "Someone's been shopping…" Adrienne chided.

Megan looked up. "Oh…yeah. I was just trying to find something to do, so I went out to look around town. I hadn't planned to buy anything, but…"

"Then you went into a bookstore," Erin finished with a knowing smile. Megan, like Erin and Adrienne, was the type of person who was usually defined as a bookworm.

"Well, not really a bookstore, it was actually more of a furniture store, but the guy just happened to have a lot of books sitting around, and I just happened to see this one." Megan replied.

"Just happened to," remarked Adrienne skeptically.

"How did you end up in a furniture store?" Erin asked, not sure she wanted to hear about this adventure Megan apparently had.

"Um…long story." Megan answered after a pause.

Erin raised her eyebrows and sat down. "I'm ready to hear it."

"Wait," said Adrienne. "I bet this is a funny story, since it involves Megan—" Megan mock-glared at her—"and we wouldn't want to leave Sarah out of the fun."

"She's taking a nap in our room," Megan offered somewhat sourly, and Adrienne left, quickly returning with a slightly dazed Sarah.

And so Megan began her tale. By the time she was done all the friends were doubled over with laughter. "…and so, I found this book, and he sold it to me!" Megan concluded with a grin, showing everyone the spine with the name on it. "Herbs and Their Uses in Treating Common Ills," Erin read. "Interesting. I never knew you liked herbal medicine."

"Yeah, I tried some back at home, and it worked all right, so I just thought this book would be kind of interesting to look through," Megan replied.

"You ought to go to the Houses of Healing," Erin told her. "It's on the fifth level with the armory and the barracks."

"Hey, you guys went to the armory!" Kavila exclaimed. "What happened?"

"Erin had to prove her archery skills," Adrienne replied, grinning.

Erin shoved her playfully. "Let me tell the story," she said. "After all, I was the one 'proving my archery skills'."

Adrienne laughed and let her do so, interjecting sarcastic comments every once in awhile for the sole purpose of annoying her. When Erin was finished, Adrienne spoke up again. "You said you wanted to tell Kavila something," she prodded. Kavila sent her a questioning glance.

Erin nodded, even as her stomach rumbled yet again. "I did, but it can wait until we've all got some lunch to eat. I'll go down and have it sent to our room."

Erin got some strange looks from the innkeeper and his family when she asked for their meals to be sent up, but to her relief, no one asked questions. After all, she was paying them for their services, and (as any innkeeper would) they believed strongly in the phrase "mind your own business."

Erin returned to an eerily quiet room. Everyone stared at the door as she entered, and she got the unsettling impression that they had been talking about her. But Erin put on a cheerful face and sat down with her friends, ignoring it. "Lunch is on the way," she announced, but her friends' grim countenances did not change. "All right, all right, I'll tell you!" she exclaimed.

"Have you got an idea for how we can help with the battle?" Kavila asked.

Erin nodded. "I spent the morning working with crossbows. They're incredibly powerful weapons, especially compared to darts or even full-sized bows. Watching Vilad shoot them gave me an idea: what if we built a _giant_ crossbow, one that could take out a Fell Beast, or set devastating fires in Sauron's siege engines?"

Her friends regarded her skeptically. "How are we going to do that? We don't know anything about how to make little crossbows, much less giant ones!" Sarah said.

"Someone had to make the crossbows the Gondorians use," Erin replied. "We can enlist their help."

At that moment two of the serving girls opened the door, bringing the food. Everyone but Erin dug in; she was too caught up in her explanation. "Not only that," she continued, "this idea brought to mind some of the medieval-style weapons like ballistas that I've read about. Here," she grabbed Kavila's physics book and began sketching on the cover. "The giant crossbow will be incredibly hard to pull back. We'll have to come up with some kind of pulley or winch system to draw it back, and something to hold it back while we aim. We could do something like this," she sketched a drawing that looked like a large saw with widely spaced teeth. "When you draw the string back, it'll be attached to a mechanism with a spike poking out to the side where this saw-like thing is. As you draw the mechanism over each tooth of the saw, it locks into place in the depressions between teeth. Then to make sure the arrow flies straight we can give the arrow a little tunnel to run through, like the barrel of a gun, except it'll have to be big enough for the fletching and arrowhead to pass through." She looked up, face flushed with excitement. "What do you guys think?"

Kavila looked at it, brow creased. "It looks good, but how big is it going to be? What are the dimensions?" she finally asked.

For a moment, Erin was stumped. Then her face lit up again as she exclaimed, "I've got a ruler in my backpack! We can use it to scale up the crossbows!"

"One 12-inch ruler to measure this thing out?" Sarah said incredulously. "How big are you thinking it'll be?"

"Maybe six, seven feet long. I'm thinking the arrows will be three or four feet long, and as thick as we can make them and still have them fly. Whatever bowyer we get to help us with this will be able to figure it out." Erin met each person's gaze for a few moments, as if trying to infuse them with her determination and enthusiasm. "We're going to need to get on this soon. This is going to need some major experimenting before it's ready to use in battle."

"Erin, we've got what, three days?" Kavila exclaimed. "We can't do this!"

"Now Kavila, you're being pessimistic. We're going to do this exactly like the ancient Romans did, through trial and error. If they did it a couple thousand years ago, we can figure it out now." Erin retorted with unfailing optimism.

"They probably had a few _years_ to perfect it!" Kavila replied heatedly.

"We'll just have to accelerate the process then." Erin answered patiently. "Who's with me?"

"Erin, I don't think—" Megan started to say.

"If you've got a better solution than this, I'd be glad to hear it." Erin interrupted irritably. "But as Kavila said, we've got about three days, give or take a few hours. We need to get started _now_. If you've got an idea, speak up. If not, let's get to work." Erin looked from person to person, but no one spoke. "We're agreed then?" she asked in a softer tone.

Adrienne shook her head. "This has to be the craziest idea I've ever heard, but it's our only alternative." She sighed, unable to help the feeling that this could only turn out for the worst. "Let's do it." Sarah, Megan, and Kavila murmured in agreement.

Erin beamed at them. "Great! Everyone eat up, and then I think we ought to pay a visit to Vilad and see who makes the crossbows in this city."

They hadn't been eating for more than a minute before a knock came on the door. Erin rose and opened it, gasping with surprise and joy as she saw who it was. "Gandalf's here!" she called as she closed the door behind the white-robed wizard. "We were just eating lunch," she told him. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes, with Lord Denethor, thank you." Gandalf replied. "How has your day been so far?"

Before anyone else could comment, Erin exclaimed, "I think we might have a workable idea!" Erin grabbed her quick sketches and began enthusiastically explaining her plan to the bemused wizard.

When she was finished, to the astonishment of all, Gandalf laughed aloud. "A wonderful idea! See that you carry it out as quickly as possible! I must return now; I merely came to make certain all was well with you." With that, he bowed his head to them and swept out of the room.

"Now that we have permission to go ahead, let's start working this out!" Erin exclaimed.

Kavila sighed and resumed her place at the table. "First of all, I think we need a better sketch," she said.

"Good idea," replied Erin. "We want something to show Vilad when we go back tonight. By the way, everybody's coming with us tonight."

"Everybody?" Kavila asked, face brightening at the prospect of getting out of the inn.

"Everybody." Erin confirmed with a smile for Kavila. "We're getting sword lessons tonight, and I want everyone to have at least a rudimentary idea of how to defend themselves. Besides, we're going to propose this idea to Vilad tonight, so we need to have you along, Kavila."

"You want me to learn swordfighting?" Kavila exclaimed, suddenly not so sure she wanted to go along. "But…swords are _pointy_! I don't _like_ pointy things! They _hurt_ people, you know!"

"Yes, that is the idea," Erin replied, chuckling. "You may have to make the choice between hurting someone and getting hurt, and I don't want you getting hurt. You're rather crucial to this whole plan."

"Nice to know I'm needed," Kavila retorted sarcastically.

"Hey, can I help draw this sketch?" Sarah asked.

Erin considered for a moment. "I don't see why you couldn't try. Got an extra pencil, Kavila?"

Kavila shook her head. "They're all back in our backpacks in Gandalf's room."

Erin sighed. "All right, let's try this. Kavila, you sketch. When you're done, hand the pencil to Sarah, and Sarah can try while you and I start working on the mechanics of this weapon. Sound good?"

"That works!" Kavila answered, immediately reaching for one of the maps. "We'll have to do it on the back of these maps, since they're our only paper."

"Good idea. While you two are working on those, I'm going out for a walk. Anyone want to come?" Erin asked.

Megan stood up. "Sure, why not?" she said. The two girls left, joking and laughing.

BY dinnertime that evening, the design of the giant crossbow was finalized. Once the sketches were finished, there was little for Kavila and Sarah to do, since they had no proportions or measurements to work with. Nothing more could be accomplished until they met with Vilad.

Dinner was a silent affair. Their many discussions today had made the sense of approaching battle ever more tangible. Everyone was lost in thought. Three days until the battle. Three days to build and perfect a giant crossbow. Three days until they would have to use it.

The silence was like the deep breath before a plunge. Everyone knew that the next few days they were all going to work harder than they had ever worked before, because the product of their work could very well change the tide of the upcoming battle. No one was untouched by the anxiety, the uncertainty, the expectancy.

Then suddenly everyone seemed to look at their plates and realize there was no more food for them to pick at. Erin looked up and sighed. "All right you guys, it's time for us to take off." Though she spoke softly, it sounded like a shout in the still air of the room.

Erin's quiet remark brought her friends out of their thoughtful dazes. All five girls stumbled to their feet, working the pins and needles out of their legs. Kavila grabbed the sketches she and Sarah had made, and then they left.

The city was dark and ominously quiet. Few people wandered the streets. Even the taverns, normally loud with off-tone singing and the sounds of fistfights, were subdued. The pale white buildings seemed almost ghastly, rising out of the unnatural darkness. The five girls moved cautiously through the streets, bunched together, constantly scanning the shadows for movement.

Once they were inside Vilad's armory, the girls' watchful mood was dispelled by the presence of bright, flaming torches. Vilad came once again from his back room, this time carrying two swords. Kavila flinched as he neared the group, moving back behind the others.

"Well, well!" he boomed, laughing. "You've brought friends! Are all the women of Minas Tirith going to visit me tomorrow, asking for sword lessons?"

Erin chuckled. "No, Vilad, there are only five of us. Adrienne and I thought it best that our friends also learn how to defend themselves. As friends of Gandalf, we may find ourselves in…dangerous situations."

Vilad's expression became serious. "Indeed. Many are the legends of Mithrandir, and few are children's bedtime stories. I cannot fault your reasoning. Take these, and I shall get weapons for the others." He handed the two swords to Adrienne and Erin, then gathered three more from the back wall.

Erin stepped away from her friends, swinging the glittering weapon experimentally. Adrienne followed her, calling out, "Watch out, Erin!" They clashed swords a few times, laughing and grinning.

Vilad dodged around them, chuckling. "Aren't we eager to begin!" He quickly distributed the other three weapons, missing the look of terror in Kavila's eyes as she tentatively accepted the sword hilt. She almost dropped it, unprepared for the weight of it. Vilad retrieved a sixth sword and called, "Erin, Adrienne, spar's over!" As the girls turned to him, faces flushed with exertion and excitement, he continued. "Besides, your form was wrong. Now, these are the hilts," he pointed to the simply-adorned silver crosswise piece just above the grip. "Here is the blade, and the grip. Hold the sword with two hands, right hand above left hand." He watched as all five girls complied. "There may be times when you grip the weapon with only one hand, but especially for you lasses, I believe it is best if you hold it with two."

Vilad continued through the lesson, showing them the different positions of striking and blocking. Then he lined them up and, yelling like a drill sergeant, called out the different moves he had just taught them. For a quarter of an hour they continued like this, until all five girls knew the positions by heart. Even Kavila was slightly more comfortable with her sword, though she certainly wasn't looking forward to sparring.

As if he had read her thoughts, Vilad called out, "Now, pair up for sparring!" Kavila tried to move unobtrusively to the back of the room and fade into the faint shadows, but Vilad saw her. "Get back here, lass! You're with me!"

Kavila couldn't have thought of a worse way for this whole situation to turn out. Erin had paired up with Adrienne, and Sarah and Megan were standing together, so that left her with Vilad. She, the terrified incompetent, was sparring with the _swordmaster_. Why couldn't Erin have been the one to pair up with Vilad? She was certainly more suited to his loud personality, and she actually _wanted_ to learn! Kavila just wanted to put down the pointy sword and sit in a corner. Or even better, go back to the room, away from the walls and walls of glittering, sharp implements.

_You may have to make the choice between hurting someone and getting hurt_, Erin's words came back to her. _All right Kavila_, she told herself as she took a deep breath and began walking toward him. _It can't be that bad. After all, if he's a swordmaster, he's taught plenty of people how to fight, and he probably knows how not to hurt someone just as well as he knows how to hurt someone_.

Kavila was a few steps away from him when he brought his sword up into the ready stance with a growl, a feral grin on his face. Kavila jumped backward and gave a little scream, her sword clattering to the floor. _It can be that bad,_ she amended, heart pounding.

Vilad chuckled. "Now, lass, that was not the reaction I was hopin' for. Don't you remember the ready stance I just taught you?" Kavila nodded. "Now pick up your weapon and do that." She followed his direction. The moment she had her sword in the desired position, Vilad charged. He took two steps forward and brought his sword up in an overhead strike. Kavila screamed again, cringing and ducking slightly, but this time she held her sword up in what was more or less the proper overhead block. "Good!" Vilad called, even as he swung towards her left side. Kavila shied to the right with a cry, but managed to meet the attack with another sloppy block. Vilad stepped back, barely breathing hard at all.

Kavila watched him warily, eyes wide with fear. Her heart was pounding and her breath came in gasps. This whole sparring thing frightened her more than anything else, except perhaps the Nazgul. That sound of metal clashing grated on her nerves, reminding her of every horror movie involving knives she had ever seen. She was painfully, acutely aware of the weapons' sharpness, and, having taken Anatomy, she was quite aware of the damage those edges (and points) could do.

"Better! That yelling of yours is a bit hard on my ears, though," Vilad called. "Again!"

Another spar, and this time Kavila managed to keep quiet after the first blow. She still wanted to scream, though. Never again would she be able to stand the sound of metal against metal, of that she was sure. Vilad must have noticed the unreasoning terror in her eyes the second time around, because he generously allowed her a few minutes to rest and "calm down," as he put it.

Kavila sat down against the wall, needing the solid wall at her back to steady her. She was breathing so hard she felt like she was going to faint. She wasn't tired; her rigorous dance classes had prepared her more than well enough physically. However, she could definitely say that she knew firsthand what the phrase "frightened out of your wits" meant.

Kavila watched her friends sparring with a worried frown. All four were sparring quite seriously, and those blades _were_ sharp. Erin and Adrienne, of course, were going at it with huge grins and teasing challenges, calling out corrections of technique to each other when such faults were detected. Sarah and Megan were more subdued, but were definitely holding their own against each other. All four were learning well, and plainly enjoying it.

Finally Vilad stopped them, passing around a flask of water and encouraging everyone to gather around him. All but Kavila came back laughing and mock-fighting, though she had regained control of her breath and her wits by now.

When they had all gathered 'round, Vilad cleared his throat. "You all did well for your first lesson," he began. Kavila snorted with sarcastic laughter, but he ignored her. "Erin and Adrienne, you two were doing _very_ well, but you did have some small technique flaws. Erin, your strikes are too heavy-handed sometimes." Erin chuckled a little and nodded. "Adrienne, you are trying to do more complicated attacks and blocks that I haven't taught you yet. You need to practice what I teach you. Sarah and Megan, you were both slightly timid and missing openings for attack." Kavila personally had thought they were anything but timid while sparring, but…her thoughts were cut off as Vilad continued.

"And Kavila…" Vilad chuckled a little, as did all four of her friends. "You need to overcome your fear of the sword. As long as you know how to use it, it will not hurt you."

"_Your_ sword is the one I'm worried about!" Kavila retorted.

"Kavila is absolutely terrified of anything sharp that's larger than a kitchen knife," Erin advised him in a "whispered" tone that everyone could hear.

"Shut up, Warford!" Kavila retorted.

Erin gave her an innocent look. "It's the truth!"

Kavila glared, shaking her head with annoyance while everyone else laughed.

Erin was the first to regain her composure. "Vilad, we have something else we'd like to talk to you about."

Vilad regarded her seriously. "And what might that be?"

"The reason we're here in Minas Tirith," Erin replied. She retrieved the pack with the sketches and laid them out on the floor. "We're helping Gandalf design a new type of siege engine, something to use against the Nazgul and siege towers. The basic idea is that it's a giant crossbow, but its size meant that we had to add some features. For instance, we want to be able to move it around quickly to aim, so we thought we could suspend it from a wooden frame on strong ropes." She quickly explained the rest of it to Vilad. When she had finished, he studied the sketches for a few more minutes.

"A dangerous weapon, this," he finally remarked. "What did you wish to ask me for?"

"We need someone to help build it, someone who has experience with building crossbows and other ranged weapons, who can help us create a working machine," Erin replied. "Do you know anyone we could go to?"

"Indeed I do!" Vilad laughed. "The man whose shop is next door there, is a master bowyer. Most of the ones hanging there were crafted by Kalva's hand. He is a good friend of mine. I shall go now and bring him to meet you, and look over these designs. I am certain we can convince him to give up a few hours a day to help us build this weapon!"

Vilad left, returning only minutes later with Kalva. Kalva was a much younger man than Vilad, well-muscled from hours of toil in his workshop, yet still somewhat slimmer than Vilad. His angular, handsome face was framed by the usual Gondorian brown hair, grown long and pulled back tightly to keep it out of his face as he worked. He smiled as he entered, greeting all five girls courteously before seating himself on the floor with Vilad.

Vilad immediately showed him the sketches, explaining the design just as Erin had done a few minutes before. When he had finished, Kalva said, "I think it will work. Three days, though…that's not long at all. We may have to improvise with this…" he trailed off, studying the sketches thoughtfully. Finally he glanced up again. "I say we do it."

Erin grinned. "Perfect! Where can we build it, and how soon can you help us get started?"

"We can build it on the practice field. The soldiers can practice in here." Vilad answered automatically. "And why not start now? As you said, we have little time."

"Too true," Erin sighed. "Where do we start?"

"We need supplies. Wood, rope, and someone to craft the metal pieces," Vilad said. "I shall leave now and see what I can find."

"All right. Vilad, Kalva," Erin looked them both in the eye. "Thank you. For all of this."

"Anything for Gondor," Vilad replied with a smile as he left. The five girls settled down with Kalva and began working out the finer points of their design.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

THE next morning Kavila woke early. As usual she had no idea what time it was; the lack of clocks was a feature of Middle Earth that Kavila was still getting used to. They existed, but mostly in upper and middle-class homes and some shops. Places like this inn unfortunately didn't fit into that category.

Kavila knew it was early because Erin had asked for the innkeeper to awaken them at dawn, and no one had come knocking on their doors yet. Still, there wasn't really any harm in getting up early. Kavila slid out of the bed as quietly as possible, went to the basin, and splashed a little achingly cold water on her face. It was still early March, and Minas Tirith was in the White Mountains, so the temperatures dropped relatively low during the night. The lack of heating and air conditioning might be a problem with Middle Earth, too, she thought with a shiver. She would definitely have to learn how to light a fire sometime in the near future.

The very near future, namely the next few days, was what concerned Kavila most. Vilad had ordered most of the supplies for the giant crossbow, except for the pieces that had to be specially crafted elsewhere, such as the metal parts. He had returned brimming with ideas, and together he and Kalva had made great progress in transforming the girls' design into an operational weapon

They had worked late into the night, mostly figuring measurements and angles, so that construction might begin the next morning. Actually, Kavila and Sarah had worked with Vilad and Kalva, while Adrienne, Erin, and Megan perfected their sparring skills. Sarah had shown a somewhat surprising interest in this project; she had never struck Kavila as a person who enjoyed math.

While Sarah was having fun with it, Kavila was of a different mind. She harbored a strong dislike of physics borne of many report cards reading "89", although she didn't mind math…too much. It had certainly been interesting to see how much of her scientific and mathematical knowledge applied to the project. Still, spending a whole evening working out complicated problems was not Kavila's idea of fun.

_This project isn't about fun_, Kavila reminded herself. _We're building a war machine here._ The paradox of it was almost funny. Kavila, someone who hated the idea of hurting other people, was designing and building a war machine that would wreak devastating havoc on other creatures. She couldn't quite bring herself to refer to the Orcs as people, but the idea of killing anything, even an Orc, was difficult for her to accept.

She'd had to remind herself several times last night that if she didn't help kill these Orcs, they would overrun the city and kill her. That was something she certainly didn't want to happen, and so she had worked, and was going to go back this morning and continue to work. Time was short and moving fast.

Suddenly there came a knock on the door. Kavila walked over and opened it a crack to show she had heard. The innkeeper nodded at her and moved on to the other room, whispering, "I'll have breakfast brought to you in a few minutes, ma'am."

Kavila closed the door and turned back toward the bed, where Erin was slowly coming awake. Kavila was mildly surprised that Erin had heard the knock and awakened. She rolled off the bed, landing rather surprisingly on her feet, and began pulling the blankets back into some semblance of order, just as she would have had she been rising for school. There was no groaning or mumbling about getting up; after all, who would groan about getting up early to work on a project which could very well turn the tide of the upcoming battle?

Erin stumbled over to the basin, still furiously rubbing at her eyes. "Kavila, where are my glasses?" she mumbled as she splashed cold water on her face. The invigorating effects of that lasted all of ten seconds, and Erin found that she could still barely keep her eyes open. This was going to be a long day.

Kavila retrieved the glasses from the table, where they had been all but invisible to Erin's horribly blurred vision. She had worn glasses since she was six years old, and her eyes were not very good; she knew few people whose lenses were as thick as hers.

"I wonder what you'll do when those glasses break or you need new lenses," Kavila mused.

"Let's not," Erin replied as she stumbled over to Kavila and claimed her glasses, sighing with relief as she slipped them onto her face. At that moment there came another knock on the door. Breakfast had arrived.

The two girls ate in silence, while Erin's mind slowly worked itself into a functioning mode. She was _not_ a morning person, especially when she was forced to wake up early after a late night. By late night, she didn't mean 11:00, either. 11:00 was fine. But as far as Erin could tell, they had returned to the inn sometime around 2:00 in the morning, and Erin guessed that she had slept perhaps four and a half hours before the innkeeper came knocking at the door. Even she had trouble functioning on four and a half hours of sleep.

Kavila and Erin had finished breakfast and were putting together everything they needed to take with them back to the armory when the rest of the group joined them. Adrienne was the most energetic of them, though that wasn't saying much; Sarah and Megan looked like the walking dead.

"Morning, everybody!" Kavila greeted in an annoyingly cheerful tone as they entered. "Ready to get working, Sarah?"

"Sure," Sarah replied in a voice that sounded anything but ready. Truthfully, she was looking forward to starting the construction, but at the moment she couldn't summon enough energy to smile, much less sound excited.

Erin took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders around a little. "Well, let's get out of here," she finally suggested. The others wordlessly followed her out the door into the chill early morning air.

-----THE next day came with a morning like brown dusk, and the hearts of men, lifted for awhile by the return of Faramir, sank low again. The winged shadows were not seen again that day, yet ever and anon, high above the city, a faint cry would come, and many who heard it would stand stricken with a passing dread, while the less stout-hearted quailed and wept.

And now Faramir was gone again. "They give him no rest," some murmured. "The Lord drives his son too hard, and now he must do the duty of two, for himself and the one that will not return."

In truth Faramir did not go by his own choosing. But the Lord of the City was master of his Council, and he was in no mood that day to bow to others. Early in the morning the Council had been summoned. There all the captains judged that because of the threat in the South their force was too weak to make any stroke of war on their own part. Meanwhile they must man the walls and wait.

"Yet," said Denethor, "we should not lightly abandon the outer defenses. And the Enemy must pay dearly for the crossing of the River. That he cannot do, in force to assail the City, either north of Cair Andros because of the marshes, or southwards toward Lebennin because of the breadth of the River, that needs many boats. It is at Osgiliath that he will put his weight, as before when Boromir denied him the passage."

"That was but a trial," said Faramir. "Today we may make the Enemy pay ten times our loss at the passage and yet rue the exchange. For he can afford to lose a host better than we to lose a company. And the retreat of those that we put out far afield will be perilous, if he wins across in force."

"And what of Cair Andros?" said the Prince. "That, too, must be held, if Osgiliath is defended. Let us not forget the danger on our left. Faramir has told us of a great strength drawing ever to the Black Gate. More than one host may issue from it, and strike for more than one passage."

"Much must be risked in war," said Denethor. "Cair Andros is manned, and no more can be sent so far. But I will not yield the River and the Pelennor unfought—not if there is a captain here who has still the courage to do his lord's will."

Then all were silent. But at length Faramir said: "I do not oppose your will, sire. Since you are robbed of Boromir, I will go and do what I can in his stead—if you command it."

"I do so," said Denethor.

"Then, farewell!" said Faramir. "But if I should return, think better of me!"

"That depends on the manner of your return," said Denethor.

-The Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

-----

DURING the brisk, chilly walk to the armory, Sarah began to come awake. Unfortunately, as she had discovered during her high school career, she did not work well on small amounts of sleep, and usually took a couple of hours to get her mind fully online. The cool air and movement was accelerating that process far more than sitting in a desk at school listening to her German teacher lecture.

As far as Sarah was concerned, the lack of giant high schools and rigidly structured educational systems was one of the best features of Middle Earth. Here, academic pursuits were much less complicated, and much more practical. She had enjoyed working with Vilad and Kalva much more than she had ever enjoyed learning math in school, especially because of the fact they were putting it to a useful purpose. That, according to Sarah, was the main problem with high school math and, in some cases, science. Students memorized formulas and theorems and rules galore, but the real test of learning, and the real fun, was practical application.

It also helped that Vilad and Kalva were amiable, entertaining people to spend hours with. Though they all knew it was a serious project, and regarded it as so, Kalva especially livened the work by making witty, sarcastic comments. He had made a few comments about Vilad teaching the girls swordfighting, but they were not necessarily disparaging comments; merely curious.

Kalva seemed to be an especially inquisitive person. It had been much more difficult to keep the secret of their origins from him than from anyone else they had encountered in Middle Earth. He had pressed them once during their work last night, until Vilad rescued them by drawing Kalva's attention back to the project. Then he had walked them back to the inn, and had once again pressured the girls for answers. It was obvious that he was suspicious, but he had not voiced these reservations, and Sarah had decided she would wait to press the issue until their project had been completed.

By now, the girls had reached the armory. Once again the streets had been all but deserted, and they had been able to easily avoid notice. The people of Minas Tirith were nervous; the sense of impending doom was almost tangible.

The moment they entered, Sarah could feel the anxiety and excitement. Today, they would begin construction of their great weapon. Today was the first test; would their design work, or would they be unable to get past even the first few beams?

Vilad and Kalva were already at work, beginning to measure out and cut the support structure for the actual weapon. All five girls were soon busy measuring, sawing, and placing the various parts under Vilad and Kalva's patient instruction.

After perhaps an hour of work, the main structure was standing. All seven stood together, just looking at it, and reveling in the growing sense of empowerment. For the first time, Sarah truly believed they could succeed. Before, there had always been that seed of doubt, that "What if?" But the first hurdle had been cleared; the infrastructure was up, and the questions were gone. Now came the more difficult work: cutting out the smaller, finer sections of the weapon, and putting it all together.

Before Sarah could start on the next stage of construction, Kalva pulled her aside. "We're going to need as many arrows as we can possibly build," he said. "Would you make them?"

Sarah swallowed rather self-consciously. "I'd like to…but I don't have any idea how to make an arrow…"

"It's not terribly hard," Kalva assured her. "I shall show you how."

Sarah nodded. "Sure then, I suppose I could do it."

Kalva grinned. "Wonderful! I determined the measurements last night. I have a device I created for carving arrow shafts, since it gets rather tedious to go into the forest after them or try and hand-carve them yourself. I made some adjustments to it this morning before you arrived, so that it will make larger shafts." He retrieved one of the sketches. "Now see here, the shaft will be three feet long…"

Sarah listened and watched intently as Kalva demonstrated how to use his device. His hands were strong and nimble, his voice rich and rhythmic as he explained. Sarah found herself wondering if he was good at telling stories. She liked the way he laughed when he was pleased with her work, and tried to provoke it as many times as she could.

The one part of the arrow-making process Kalva did not teach her was fletching. This presented a slight problem, because Vilad had not ordered any feathers, and feathers of the size needed for such large shafts were not very common. "I shall go out and see what I can find," Kalva told her. "You can still make the shafts and fit the points in, and I will start the fletching when I return." Sarah nodded, and he left hurriedly.

The first couple of shafts she made were not quite right, since she was new to the machine, and Kalva's hands were not there to guide her. But she soon got used to the process, and began to work out a system. She would make five shafts, then fit them with points, then make five more, and so on. By the time Kalva had returned, she had produced fifteen shafts, and was fastening the point onto the last one.

"Ah hah!" he exclaimed when he saw the stack of unfletched arrows. "You have worked diligently, I see! And it is good work, too. You have mastered my machine!" Then he laughed, obviously pleased, and Sarah couldn't help but smile back.

Kalva sat down beside her, taking a knife and a large roll of black cord from a pouch at his side. Sarah looked over with interest as she finished the last tip. "Are you going to fletch them?" she asked.

He glanced up for a moment before unwrapping a large cloth-wrapped package. Inside were several dozen turkey feathers, each seven or eight inches long. "I am," he replied as he fingered one of the white-and-brown flecked feathers. "Would you like to learn?"

"Sure!" Sarah answered, more interested in watching him work than in actually learning the process. Still, she observed intently as he used the knife to trim the feather, then sighted down the shaft to make sure the feather was straight as he placed it. He fastened the feather onto the shaft with the black cord, his fingers moving so quickly Sarah could barely follow their actions.

It was not difficult at all to see why Kalva was considered a master of his craft, watching him now. His movements were smooth and practiced, but rapid and efficient as well. In a matter of minutes he had tied on the other two feathers, exactly a third of a rotation away from the first one, without even measuring. He tied off the cord with a complicated knot, trimming off the remaining cord and leaving only a small end.

Suddenly he glanced around himself with a curse. "Sarah, could you get me some hot tar and a brush?" he asked in a frustrated tone.

"Sure," she replied, and rose quickly. The others had been using the tar as a caulk on the giant crossbow, and so it was not difficult to find a bucket of the stuff. She set it carefully beside him, holding out the brush, and he glanced up with a grateful smile. As he took the brush from her, his hand lingered on hers for a moment longer than necessary, and Sarah glanced hurriedly at his face as her heart did a fluttering somersault. It was a mask of concentration, as he applied himself to the delicate task of cementing the knot with tar.

"Lunchtime!" Erin called suddenly from the other side of the practice field. Sarah waved to show she had heard, gave herself a mental shake, and tapped Kalva on the shoulder. "Lunchtime," she told him.

"Go on, I'll be fine," he murmured in a voice that was barely audible, not even glancing up. Sarah watched him for a moment longer, concern on her face, then joined her friends.

"LUNCH" was a simple affair: bread, cheese, and water for the girls, and a mug of ale for Vilad. The plain fare was not usual for the mess halls, but the explanation was simple. The city was storing up food for a siege, he thought with a mental sigh. He would much rather spend his time crafting weapons than wielding them, and was not looking forward to this battle. Back in the armory, working with the girls, he escaped at least somewhat the ominous cloud of depression that had descended upon the city, but here at the mess table it was more obvious than ever. Where normally there was loud talk and laughter, silence reigned, even among his own group. The sense of hopelessness had affected even the normally talkative and upbeat girls.

Vilad was pleased that no one had taken real notice of them. The girls had tied back their hair in the traditional men's way, and their loose clothing helped disguise their obvious femininity, but there had still been that worry that someone would confront them about their presence here.

The few murmurs that were passed around the mess halls provided the reason for the unusually introverted pessimism of the soldiers. Captain Faramir had departed early this morning for Osgiliath, at the orders of his father, there to make a last stand for Gondor before its people were imprisoned within their own walls. Even the generals knew it was a lost cause; many had lost faith in the Lord Denethor, ever since Prince Boromir's death had been confirmed. Denethor seemed like a lost man, unable to find his way back to reality to provide the leadership his people so desperately needed.

Maybe Osgiliath and the Rammas Echor were lost causes, but once the Enemy had reached the walls of Minas Tirith, Gondor would show them that it had not completely lost its former glory and might. Though in many ways she seemed weak, she had endured thus far against the Enemy's forces, and would continue to endure until her very heart was struck through.

Though it had been only a few minutes, all six were finished with their quick meal, and soon were on their way back to shelter of the armory. Vilad knew what was happening, what was driving them to work so tirelessly. They were throwing themselves into the construction of this war machine, trying to escape from the realization of how soon the battle would reach the walls of the city, how soon they would be forced to face the reality of war and death.

And yet at the same time, Vilad reflected, there could be rays of joy in the grim cloud of the past few days. He smiled a little as he saw Sarah grab a loaf of bread and block of cheese, wrapping them quickly in some cloth; probably for Kalva, who had refused to come to lunch. Vilad knew him well; until he was satisfied that there was nothing more on the project that he could do, he would habitually forget about such comparatively unimportant things as sleeping and eating.

Vilad specifically remembered once instance a year or so back, when Kalva had been commissioned to craft a special bow for a wealthy lord of the city. At Vilad's urging, he had taken perhaps a meal a day, and slept a few hours a night, working by candlelight when he could not fight off the sleeplessness. It had taken nearly three days to complete the weapon, and when he was done Kalva had seemed a different man; gaunt, with circles of exhaustion under his eyes and a drag to his step that was disturbingly uncharacteristic of him. It worried Vilad, because as soon as this project was finished Kalva would be thrown into a battle with little chance for recuperation, and an exhausted man does not usually perform well in such circumstances.

When they returned to the armory, Kalva had finished fletching all fifteen shafts, and had started on another batch. Vilad watched with a hidden smile as Sarah offered Kalva the bread and cheese. Kalva smiled gratefully, and Sarah beamed back before taking over the operation of Kalva's shaft-making machine. Vilad considered this a good sign for his two friends; he had noticed that Sarah was not particularly given to displays of emotion, whether they be angry outbursts or grins and laughter. Vilad had already passed through that time of life, when one is young and interested in the opposite gender, and so could easily recognize the symptoms of a growing affection. Now would come the frustrating part: waiting for the two of them to acknowledge that they had feelings for each other. _Why is it that the two people involved are always the last to realize they are in love?_ Vilad wondered absentmindedly as he returned to his work. He noticed the other girls exchanging knowing glances and giggles. He wasn't the only one who had noticed, apparently.

Still chuckling inwardly, he strode over to one of the larger beams. "Kalva, I need your help for a moment!" he called as he attempted to lift it. Together the men were able to fit it in place, stepping back to survey their work. The project was coming along well. _We will probably finish it with another day's worth of work_, Vilad thought. _Hopefully we shall have time to perfect it before we must wield it._

MEGAN watched with halfhearted interest as Vilad and Kalva put another piece onto the giant crossbow. It was coming along, that was for sure. It would be done soon; perhaps even by noon.

This was the second day the girls had spent in the armory, working on their project, and Megan was bored stiff. Yesterday she had been able to help measure and cut the different pieces, but when it came to the actual assembly, she was no longer needed. She had brought her book, but had finished it after only a couple of hours of reading. Now she was faced with the prospect of another hour and a half until lunch, with nothing to occupy her attention.

Megan glanced around the armory building, where she had been reading by candlelight. The darkness that had fallen over Minas Tirith meant that there was no natural light to read by; though the giant crossbow was being assembled outside, all the measuring and precise work was being accomplished in here.

Suddenly Megan's gaze fell on the doorway. She could hear some faint sounds outside on the street, and decided to investigate. Stepping outside, Megan saw a couple of wagons clattering down the street, explaining the sounds she had heard. There were a few passersby, all soldiers, some on patrol and some returning from duty. The barracks were on this level, after all.

There were no civilians on the streets. The people of Minas Tirith seemed to be frightened by the unnatural darkness of the sky, and preferred to stay indoors.

Megan was not exactly comfortable outside, since her body clock was telling her that it was mid-morning, and her eyes were telling her it was nighttime. She found the constant movement of the clouds disturbing, like vapors from some witch's cauldron. But she was tired of sitting around the armory feeling useless, and definitely needed to stretch her legs and get some fresh air.

Suddenly Megan's gaze was drawn to the corner of the street, perhaps thirty feet away, where an older man was struggling down the main lane with several packages and bags. Several soldiers passed him by without a second glance, but he obviously was very close to dropping something.

Megan jogged down the street toward him, calling for him to stop. "Here, sir, let me help you with some of that stuff," she said, removing three packages from his arms as he nodded his thanks. "Where are you taking these?" Megan asked.

"Houses of Healing," he puffed as he continued his slow progression up the slope. They had not even gone a block before he turned left down another passage, wide enough for more than one person or perhaps a horse to pass, but not something as large as a wagon. At the end of the passage was a large set of double doors, which Megan quickly opened for the old man.

Inside were many corridors, wider than the hallways of normal houses, branching off in several directions. Megan could see several doors down each of them, and surmised that this was indeed the Houses of Healing.

The man led her down the righthand corridor, until they reached the end. They passed through the door into a room which Megan immediately recognized as a storeroom. There were dozens of boxes and jars containing all sorts of herbs and medicines, stacked upon shelves that lined the storeroom walls. The old man set his packages down on a table that stood in the center of the room, motioning for Megan to do the same.

"Thank you, girl," the man said with a kindly smile. "That was very thoughtful of you."

"Megan, please," she said, and he laughed apologetically. "Forgive me, I forgot to mention my name. 'Tis a disadvantage of age; I fail to remember such simple courtesies. I am Lindir, a healer."

"What's in those packages?" Megan asked, her interest piqued.

Lindir began to carefully open the nearest one. "Herbs," he answered as he pulled back the cloth to reveal a bundle of slender green leaves. "We must replenish our stores in preparation for the wounded that will soon be returning from Osgiliath."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

SARAH, Adrienne, Erin, and Kavila held their breaths as they watched Vilad carefully place the last piece onto their giant crossbow: the saw mechanism. The moment he stepped back, the four girls broke into cheers, laughing and embracing each other. Their great project was finished, after nearly thirty-six hours of mentally and physically exhausting work.

After several minutes of congratulating themselves on their finished work ("Those arrows look very straight, Sarah." "Thanks. That beam there is very well cut, Adrienne."), Sarah changed the subject. "What time is it?" she asked.

"'Tis hard to tell," Vilad replied, glaring at the featureless black sky. "I would guess 'tis early afternoon."

"_That's_ why I'm so hungry! We worked straight through lunch!" Sarah exclaimed, drawing a chuckle from her friends. Vilad immediately withdrew into the building, emerging several minutes later with a celebratory lunch of bread, dried meat, cheese, and ale. "I've no water in the storerooms," he apologized to the girls. "You shall have to retrieve some from the fountain."

All four girls were staring hungrily at the food. "We'll get it after we eat," Kavila said decidedly, and the others showed their agreement by tearing into the proffered meal.

Once the food was devoured and their thirsts quenched, Vilad rose and moved toward the giant crossbow. "We ought to test it," he said finally, rather reluctantly. The others did not reply; they were all thinking the same thing. What if all their hard work was for nothing? What if it didn't work, or broke when they tried to fire it?

"Wait!" Erin exclaimed suddenly. "Megan should be here!"

"Where did that lass get to?" Vilad chuckled.

"She's probably back in the room. I saw her leave earlier this morning," Adrienne replied. "I'll go find her." She left, and silence fell over the rest of the group as each tried to assure themselves that their hours of labor would prove successful. When Adrienne returned twenty minutes later, the silence was still unbroken.

"Well, well," came a well-known but unexpected voice from the doorway. "I see you have indeed built the weapon you designed." Everyone looked up with surprise and joy as Gandalf swept into their midst, followed by Adrienne and Megan.

"I met him on the way to the room. He was headed there to talk to us, but luckily I found him and told him we were here," Adrienne explained when she received several questioning looks.

"Where were you, Megan?" Erin asked.

"I met this healer, Lindir. I helped him take some things back to the Houses of Healing, and then I stayed there helping him and the other healers get ready." Megan replied.

"Get ready for what?" Kavila asked.

"The wounded who shall be arriving from Lord Denethor's…defense of Osgiliath," Gandalf replied harshly, obviously disapproving of the battle.

His comment was met with silence, as everyone realized the sobering truth: the battle for Minas Tirith was begun. Even as they worked here, people were fighting and dying. Erin tried to recall how long the battle of Osgiliath had lasted in the books, but could only remember that it had been very few days. They didn't have much time before the battle would be at the city walls.

"I will get an arrow," Kalva said quietly, rising. The anticipation in the air was almost tangible as Kalva loaded the weapon, and together he and Vilad worked to aim and draw it. There was a moment of hesitation, filled with all the hopes and uncertainties each had harbored throughout the construction of the weapon, creeping by as slowly as an age, and then Vilad pulled the lever.

The arrow released with a loud _crack!_, flying with such power and speed that none of the girls could follow its passage through the air. Not even a heartbeat passed before the arrow embedded itself in the upper edge of the target with a sound of splitting wood.

Erin looked back at the giant crossbow with concern, but it was intact. There were a few moments of silence as the realization sank in, and then Adrienne exclaimed, "It _worked_!"

That was all that was needed to break them out of their silent wonder. Cheers, louder and more heartfelt than before, erupted from their throats. Even Gandalf was smiling as he congratulated the group on their work.

Suddenly Kavila stopped, looking once more at the splinters of the target. "Wait…it didn't hit the middle!" she wailed.

"That is merely a matter of aim, lass," Vilad replied with a hearty chuckle. "All that matters is that that target is no longer usable for archery practice."

Gandalf cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Since this first weapon has proved so effective, think you that a second one could be constructed in time?" he asked.

"We've already built one, and it'll be easier the second time," Erin mused aloud, brow creased in thought.

"Who'll shoot the second one, though?" asked Sarah.

There was silence for a few moments as everyone contemplated Sarah's point. "Kalva and one of the girls could man the first weapon, and I could operate the second with another lass, m'lord," Vilad suggested.

Gandalf nodded. "Yes, that is a fine idea. See that it is carried out."

"Yes, m'lord. Kalva, would you purchase some materials for us?" Vilad asked, and Kalva nodded and left. "I shall order the metal parts forged, m'lord." Vilad said, bowing to Gandalf, and followed Kalva out the door.

Gandalf spared the giant crossbow one last glance. "I too must leave; the battle nears our gates, and I am needed in their defense."

Before he could turn to leave, Adrienne spoke up. "Gandalf, could I talk with you for a moment?"

"Very well." Gandalf replied, and led her back into the armory building. "Of what do you wish to speak to me?"

Adrienne's calm expression suddenly changed, dropped like a veil. "I want to know what plans you've got for us after this battle is over. Right now we're all busy with this project, but when we're finished with this, we aren't going to have anything to do! We aren't equipped to live in Middle Earth; we don't know its customs, or any skills we could make a living out of." Gandalf attempted to interrupt her, but Adrienne was on a roll, and wasn't going to be intimidated into silence by anybody, even the formidable wizard. "Oh, and one more tiny, little detail," she continued in a sarcastic tone. "Are we ever going to be able to go back to our world? Middle Earth has its advantages, and I'm sure it's a great place to live, but we don't have anyone here except each other. Our families are all back home, probably worried sick about us. Are we ever going to see them again, or at least be able to tell them we're okay?" Finally she finished, breathing hard in her anger. The stress and lack of sleep during the past couple of days had taken its toll on her self-control and shortened her temper, which was admittedly not terribly long in the first place.

To her further annoyance, Gandalf smiled at her, as if she were a child who didn't quite understand what it was talking about. _Alright, so I don't know much about magic and inter-world travel_, Adrienne thought_. As far as I know, neither does he! And how the hell could he _possibly_ begin to understand how I feel? It's not like he's lacking in friends here, and he knows this world a whole damn lot better than I do._

"I cannot answer many of your questions," Gandalf replied. "I do not understand how you and your friends arrived here, nor do I have any idea how or if you will be able to return. As for your lives after the war, that will depend on the outcome of this battle."

Adrienne had to try very hard not to scream. She didn't want her friends charging in here, worried that something bad was happening. But goddamnit, she felt like racing outside and letting loose the loudest scream ever to pierce the skies of Middle Earth! Gandalf would have had a perfect career as a politician or political spokesman; he could dodge questions better than most politicians Adrienne had ever seen, and answer them in such an ambiguous way that by the time you figured out what he was saying (and that it didn't really answer your question) he was too far out of reach to be asked again.

Just as Adrienne was about to press him for more detailed answers, a man dressed in Gondorian livery came running into the armory. "Lord Mithrandir, I bring grave news of Captain Faramir," he exclaimed, breathing hard. He immediately gained Gandalf's full attention, much to Adrienne's exasperation. "The battle goes ill, my lord. If he wins back at all across the Pelennor, his enemies will be on his heels. They have paid dear for the crossing, but less dearly than we hoped. The plan has been well laid. It is now seen that in secret they have long been building floats and barges in great number in East Osgiliath. They swarmed across like beetles. But it is the Black Captain that defeats us. Few will stand and abide even the rumour of his coming. His own folk quail at him, and they would slay themselves at his bidding."

"Then I am needed there more than here," said Gandalf, departing at once from the armory in a flurry of robes.

Adrienne went back outside, seething inwardly. As soon as her friends saw her expression, most of them decided to let her alone. Kavila, who didn't know Adrienne and her moods as well, asked, "What did you talk to him about?"

Adrienne shook her head, murmuring "Nothing," in a tone that quite clearly said "I don't want to talk to anybody right now." She was left alone to brood in silence as they awaited Vilad and Kalva's return.

AS Erin had predicted, it was easier to build the second giant crossbow than the first. By midnight that evening, the second structure was three-quarters finished, lacking only the metal parts and a few other small pieces, as well as more arrows. The girls were just about to head back to the inn when Vilad said, "I've some blankets in the back, and some space inside. If you would like, you might sleep at the armory tonight. We could begin earlier in the morning."

The girls wearily agreed, having dreaded the dark, cold walk back to their rooms. And so they spent the night on the hard plank floor, huddled beneath several blankets each to protect against the biting cold. The temperatures didn't really drop at night; after all, there was no change in the atmosphere, no sunlight to warm the air during the day.

The next morning, they awoke cramped and depressed. Gandalf had left for the Battle of Osgiliath, and Faramir remained there. The perpetual gloom of Sauron's Darkness and lack of sunlight dampened their spirits. The tension and fear in the air was tangible, as the people of Minas Tirith continuously gazed north towards the ever-nearing battle. Gondor's army was being pushed back, slowly but steadily; the menacing red fires of Orcs grew larger and closer as the day wore on, until they reached the wall about the Fields, the Rammas Echor. There Faramir held them for a few hours, though many explosions and yells could now be seen and heard, if one had sharp eyes and ears. And yet still no tidings came.

By mid-morning, all that was left to assemble on the second giant crossbow were the metal parts and more arrows. Acutely aware of the possibility of running out of arrows before the battle was through, Sarah and Kalva were constantly working to increase the stack. It looked almost like a giant stack of sharp firewood now, Megan mused, if one ignored the fletching.

Suddenly Sarah looked up. "Vilad," she called, and he turned to her. "Where are we going to shoot these from? And more importantly, how are we going to move them?"

For several moments there was a horrified silence across the practice field. "I _knew_ we messed up on something!" Kavila exclaimed in a disgusted voice.

From her position in the doorway, Megan heard the rattle of a wagon passing by on the cobblestones outside. "Wheels!" she called. "We can build wheels on them!"

There was a silent yet tangible sigh of relief, as everyone realized that there was a solution to their problem. "We'll have to lift them up to get the wheels on, but I think we can do it," Erin said thoughtfully.

"Oh my god, you guys, don't scare me like that! For a few seconds there I thought we actually wouldn't be able to use them." Kavila said in an exasperated tone.

"I shall go find a cartwright," said Vilad with a chuckle, excusing himself.

"I'm going to go look outside for a minute," Megan said after he had left. "I'll see how close the battle is."

Erin gave her a forced smile, but the others just nodded or ignored her, lost in their own thoughts. Megan stepped outside with a sigh of relief. She was proud of the work they were doing, of course, and proud that she was helping, but the armory area had become very confining in the past couple of days.

There was a battlement along the opposite side of the street, and Megan crossed to it carefully, finding it easy to avoid the few carts and pedestrians wandering the streets. She looked out with a gasp, already hearing the sounds of battle. There, perhaps a mile away, she could see flashes of red light at the wall. The battle had already come so near!

Suddenly Megan's attention was drawn to the plain between the Rammas Echor and the city. There were a few wagons, followed by a white horse, slowly making their way across the dark grassland…_that must be Shadowfax! Gandalf must be coming back_! she thought.

Megan raced back inside, transferring the news to her friends. "Gandalf's returning?..." Erin thought for a moment. "I think he's coming back with wounded…right, Adrienne?"

Adrienne shook her head in bewilderment. "I have no idea. I don't remember this part specifically."

"Well, he's got to be back here to lead the sortie when Faramir retreats…I don't know!" Erin threw up her hands. "I would give just about anything to have a copy of that book with me right now."

"I'll go down to see what's going on," Megan volunteered, anxious to get out again. Also, if there were wounded soldiers in those wagons, the Houses of Healing would need help.

"I'll come with you," Kavila said. "I don't think I can do much here." The two girls departed at a run, rushing through the streets and attempting to navigate down a few levels without getting utterly lost. This was rather difficult, since their only memories of going between levels were foggy with sleep or exhaustion.

They had managed to descend one level when they met Gandalf. Lindir, the healer Megan had befriended, was directing the wagons toward the Houses of Healing, and Gandalf was preparing to leave to plan defense with Denethor and the generals. He caught sight of them just as they neared him, shouting "How goes the construction?"

"The second one's almost done!" Kavila yelled back over the clamor of the wheels. "We're going to put them on wheels!"

Gandalf nodded approvingly. "If you're not needed there, you may help Lindir get these wounded to the Houses of Healing," he called, then rode away, scattering passersby before him.

"Lindir!" Megan attempted to get the man's attention, but the wagons were loud on the cobblestone, the horses pulling them were agitated, and Megan had been cursed with a soft voice that she was hard-pressed to project over all the clatter. As she tried to force her way towards him, waving and calling, he finally noticed her. "Megan!" he called. "Could you lead these wagons to the Houses?"

Instead of trying to reply verbally, which Lindir surely would not be able to hear, Megan nodded. Lindir gave Kavila a quizzical look, but didn't attempt to say anything.

Megan waved at the wagon drivers and set off at a jog, Kavila right behind her. "Do you know where you're going?" Kavila exclaimed.

"We just have to go back the way we came. Once we get to the fifth level, I can get to the Houses of Healing." Megan replied offhandedly, then slowed. "Did we turn here?"

Kavila suppressed a sarcastic retort. "Yes," she answered, taking a deep breath as Megan started off again. Megan might be a cross country runner, but Kavila was most certainly not the athletic type, and this uphill running was not being nice to her leg muscles.

After her single moment of confusion, Megan found her way easily. Minutes later, the wagons came to a stop before the Houses of Healing. A flurry of activity ensued as healers flooded out of the Houses, quickly transferring the wounded from the wagons to beds within. In the chaos, Megan and Kavila were split up, each helping carry a different patient indoors. Kavila felt panic rise within her the moment Megan disappeared down the corridor, but she couldn't let go of the wounded man she was helping to bear. By the time they reached the man's room, Kavila was so lost she could not have found her way back to the entrance without a guide. Unfortunately, the moment the man was set on a cot, the healer who had been helping Kavila carry him raced back outside, before Kavila could ask for help.

She looked around the room hurriedly, hoping there was someone else who wasn't busy and could help her get out. The stench of sweat and blood in the room was nauseating, and only contributed to the sick feeling in her stomach.

There were two healers in the room, tending to the wounded men, and both seemed harried, busy with their work. Before Kavila could call to either of them, the man whom she had carried inside groaned, "Help me…please, help me."

Kavila looked down in surprise, kneeling when she saw he was speaking. "Please…bind it so that I can…return to the battle…" he moaned, his pain obvious in his voice.

Kavila just stared at him for a moment, shocked that someone would want to return to the battle after being injured. Then he let out another groan of pain, and Kavila stood, calling to the healers. One was too busy to reply, but the other woman looked up briefly and said in a strained voice, "You can bind a wound, can't you, child?"

"Well, yeah…" Kavila replied without thinking, instantly cursing herself for doing so. "But…should I put something in the wound, some, ah, herbs…?"

"Ah, here," the healer nodded toward a bowl sitting on a nearby table without looking up from her work. "Clean the wound and spread a bit of that paste into it, then bind it."

Kavila quickly retrieved the bowl, grimacing at the green paste within. She returned to the man's bedside, scanning his body and quickly finding the source of the wound: his lower left side, just below the hip-bone at the joint of the left leg. She peeled back the blood-soaked layers of cloth to reveal a very red, painful-looking slash, struggling not to let it affect her already unsettled stomach. In an attempt to slow the bleeding, Kavila tied a strip of cloth just above the wound, hoping to restrict the blood flow at least partially. She noticed a bucket of water not far from her patient's cot, and found a rag inside, which she used to wipe some of the blood clean. The water looked like a bucket of blood by the time she was finished.

Kavila knew what to do now; she had been taking an anatomy class back in her world, and remembered quite a bit of what she had learned. With careful fingers she smeared some of the green paste over the wound, which had largely stopped bleeding by now. In an effort to distract her patient from her painful work, she began to talk. "It's a long cut, but it's shallow, so it's a bit less serious. It'll heal faster, at least."

"That's good," he bit out, teeth clenched in pain as she began to wrap a strip of clean bandage tightly around his leg. The strip wasn't long, and in a few seconds Kavila had finished. "It's done," she told him, trying to force a smile for his benefit.

He grinned back. "May I return to the battle?"

"You want to go back out there? After getting hurt?" Kavila exclaimed.

"My city needs me," he replied simply.

Suddenly the healer who had give Kavila the herb paste came up behind her, appraising her work. "Good work," she said to Kavila, then addressed the man. "You should remain in the city, though you may leave the Houses. The battle will come to you soon enough, and perhaps you will be a better soldier if your wound is healed somewhat."

The young man (for Kavila noticed now that he appeared not much older than she) looked slightly disappointed at the prospect of having to watch the battle from afar. Personally, Kavila thought this was the best way to watch a battle, if one needed to be fought at all, but the soldier definitely did not agree. Though Kavila couldn't relate, she could see that he, like most of the other men of the city, felt a deep loyalty to his city and his people. As long as Minas Tirith needed him, he would fight.

Suddenly Kavila felt a desire awaken within her to do all she could for these brave soldiers who would sacrifice everything for their people, even if it meant their lives, and even though the odds of victory were heavily against them and they knew their sacrifice might well be in vain. She jumped to her feet, quickly catching up to the healer woman, who had been leaving the room. "What else can I help with?" she asked.

The healer glanced back at her, faintly surprised at the girl's offer, since she obviously was new to the art of healing. "You could assist me, I suppose, —" The healer gave her a questioning look.

"Kavila," she said, and the healer smiled as she repeated the unfamiliar name. "Kavila. I am Raliwen." Suddenly she made a quick turn into another room, where only one healer was working.

"Raliwen!" the man exclaimed. "Your assistance would be much appreciated here."

"Where can I be of aid?" she asked.

"You can begin with that side of the room. I haven't cared for any of the men there." The man answered, and Raliwen motioned to Kavila, who followed her to the farthest cot, bracing herself for a long, exhausting afternoon.

MEGAN wandered the gardens of the Houses, marveling at each hidden grove or patch of flowers, gracing the soft grass dark with shadow like stars in the night sky. She avoided looking up at the gruesome, black clouds writhing in the sky; she didn't want to spoil this momentary peace.

After working with her most of the afternoon, Lindir had led her here and advised her to rest. Perhaps he had seen that she would be more comfortable and relaxed out here, away from the smells and heat and confinement of the healing rooms. He had left to take care of some last chores, perhaps half an hour ago. She had been exploring the gardens ever since.

She turned a corner, moving around a large tree to find a sheltered, secret little glade, with a small fountain in the center. An angel-like figure rose out of the water, spouting dark liquid from her hand, which was outstretched in a desperate plea to the heavens. It struck a chord within Megan, and she found herself kneeling almost unconsciously on the green lawn before the fountain. She brought her hands together in prayer, suddenly unable to speak, feeling all the emotions she had been suppressing the past couple of days, all the hopes and fears she had harbored, flowing up from her heart and soul and out through her hands in wordless supplication. She lost her sense of time as she knelt there, lost in the sensations of peace and surrender to emotion. When the moment had passed, and she became aware of her surroundings once more, she realized that her cheeks were wet and cold. She wiped them calmly, reveling in the tranquility that had taken hold of her heart.

She hadn't prayed since their arrival in Middle Earth, except for a quick grace before eating. Mostly she had been too tired upon their return to the inn in the wee hours of the morning. Now she realized how much she had needed that release of emotion.

In the quiet, blank trance of her mind, an image of her family suddenly appeared, perhaps brought on by her prayer. She remembered going to church with them, celebrating Christmas and Easter with them, and her peaceful state of mind evaporated. After her experience this afternoon, she needed their support more than ever. All the death and pain around her this afternoon had reminded her of her own mortality, and the frailty of the human body. It was frightening; she had never been a supporter of war, but neither had she truly understood the severity and agony of it. Never before had she watched, not on television but in real life, as another human being died. Never before had she knelt at a wounded man's side and reassured him of his recovery, at the same time watching the life drain from his body. Never before had she felt so frustrated, so inadequate, so helpless; she could do everything she was told, everything she had ever heard or learned of, and still fail to save someone's life. Even if she did not fight in the upcoming battle, there was always the possibility that Minas Tirith would fall, and that she too would die. She remembered Erin's words with frightening clarity: _Who knows if the books will prove true or false?_

And yet, while she had been reminded of Mankind's physical weaknesses, she had also seen their spiritual strength. She had lost count how many of her patients had asked to return to the battle field, or at least be allowed to help with some area of the war effort. Some had been sent off to help the fletchers or the armories, but most had been ordered to rest. Megan could see the frustration in their eyes at being helpless, at being forced to wait. She could see their anguish as the bodies of their fellow comrades were removed, vacating more cots for the new wounded that would soon arrive.

"Megan?" came a deep voice behind her, one that she knew well after this afternoon. Lindir came into the grove as she looked up, smiling. "I thought you were going to rest."

"I was trying to find a good place," she replied as he seated himself beside her.

"I see that you did," he chuckled, gazing at the fountain. "I've always liked this glade. It seems rather secret, almost as if there were an invisible barrier between it and the rest of the gardens." There was silence for a few moments, and then Lindir spoke again. "The woman in the fountain is thought to be Estë, healer of all hurts; those that can be seen, and those that cannot. Perhaps that is why it is so peaceful here."

The silence between them was not uncomfortable, merely calm and companionable. Megan lay back on the soft carpet of grass, a wave of lethargy washing over her, closing her eyes. She drifted in the sea of unthinking nothingness, perched on the cusp between consciousness and unconsciousness.

Lindir looked down at her, a smile playing on his face. The girl looked younger, more innocent in sleep, the lines of care upon her face smoothed by dreams of better times. She seemed too young to be venturing out into the world, certainly too young to face the situations she had endured today. Lindir wondered idly where she had started from. Her skin was a dark bronze, uncommon in the lands of Men, so she must have traveled far. He wondered if her parents were still there, if she had any siblings, or if she had been orphaned years ago, tossed into his care by the seas of fate. For into his care she had come, even if she didn't realize it yet; he had already resolved to himself that he would watch over her. This was a dangerous time and a dangerous place, especially for a girl of her age.

Suddenly he heard a commotion outside the walls of the gardens. The sound of shouting drifted to him on the wind, then a single, clear note blown on a horn. With a sigh Lindir rose to his feet, bestowing a single kiss on Megan's forehead. She shivered a little in her sleep as a faint breeze passed through the glade, and he unfastened his cloak, laying it over her sleeping form. Then he turned and strode silently from the clearing, leaving Megan alone with her dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

-----IT was Gandalf that brought the first tidings. With a handful of horsemen he came in the middle morning, riding as escort to a line of wains. At once he went to Denethor. The Lord of the City sat now in a high chamber above the Hall of the White Tower with Pippin at his side; and through the dim windows, north and south and east, he bent his dark eyes, as if to pierce the shadows of doom that ringed him round. Most to the North he looked, and would pause at whiles to listen, as if by some ancient art his ears might hear the thunder of hoofs on the plains far away.

"Is Faramir come?" he asked.

"No," said Gandalf. "But he still lived when I left him. Yet he resolved to stay with the rearguard, lest the retreat over the Pelennor become a rout. He may, perhaps, hold his men together long enough, but I doubt it. He is pitted against a foe too great. For one has come that I feared."

"Not—not the Dark Lord?" cried Pippin, forgetting his place in his terror.

Denethor laughed bitterly. "Nay, not yet, Master Peregrin! He will not come save only to triumph over me when all is won. He uses others as his weapons. So do all great lords, if they are wise, Master Halfling. Or why should I sit here in my tower and think, and watch, and wait, spending even my sons? For I can still wield a brand."

He stood up and cast open his long black cloak, and behold! he was clad in mail beneath, and girt with a long sword, great-hilted in a sheath of black and silver. "Thus have I walked, and thus now for many years have I slept," he said, "lest with age the body should grow soft and timid."

"Yet now under the Lord of Barad-dur the most fell of all his captains is already master of your outer walls," said Gandalf. "King of Angmar long ago, Sorcerer, Ringwraith, Lord of the Nazgul, a spear of terror in the hand of Sauron, shadow of despair."

"Then, Mithrandir, you had a foe to match you," said Denethor. "For myself, I have long known who is the chief captain of the hosts of the Dark Tower. Is this all that you have returned to say? Or can it be that you have withdrawn because you are overmatched?"

Pippin trembled, fearing that Gandalf would be stung to sudden wrath, but his fear was needless. "It might be so," Gandalf answered softly. "But our trial of strength is not yet come. And if words spoken of old be true, not by the hand of man shall he fall, and hidden from the Wise is the doom that awaits him. However that may be, the Captain of Despair does not press forward, yet. He rules rather according to the wisdom that you have just spoken, from the rear, driving his slaves in madness on before.

"Nay, I came rather to guard the hurt men that can yet be healed; for the Rammas is breached far and wide, and soon the host of Morgul will enter in at many points. And I came chiefly to say this. Soon there will be battle on the fields. A sortie must be made ready. Let it be of mounted men. In them lies our brief hope, for in one thing only is the enemy still poorly provided: he has few horsemen."

"And we also have few. Now would the coming of Rohan be in the nick of time," said Denethor.

"We are likely to see other newcomers first," said Gandalf. "Another army is come from the Black Gate, crossing from the north-east."

"Some have accused you, Mithrandir, of delighting to bear ill news," said Denethor. "but to me this is not longer news: it was known to me ere nightfall yesterday. As for the sortie, I had already given thought to it. Let us go down."

-The Return of the King, by J.R.R. Tolkien

-----

"WELL, I guess they're not coming back for awhile," said Adrienne, after an hour had passed without Kavila and Megan's return. "I hope nothing's happened to them."

"I heard rumors of a caravan of wounded men entering the city while I was speaking with the cartwright," Vilad said. "They may have gone to help in the Houses of Healing."

Evening was fast approaching, and the group was busy putting the last two wheels on the second giant crossbow. They had had to lift them up to put the wheels on, so that the engines would be slightly elevated above the ground, and thus could be moved more easily. This had proven difficult, since the machines were large and in many parts solid wood; the task had required the aid of all present.

"Somebody had better go check the Houses of Healing and make certain Megan and Kavila are there," Sarah suggested once they were finished.

"I'll go," said Erin. "Where are those maps again?" Once she had found the map of the fifth level, she glanced quickly at it. "Oh, here's the Houses of Healing. They're not far from here at all. I'll be back soon!" She left quickly.

The darkness of the streets was a disturbing contrast to the bright torchlight of the armory. Erin felt fear rising in her, coiling in her stomach like a snake. She should have had Adrienne or Sarah come with her. She shouldn't be out here alone. There were others on the streets, but not many, mostly tall soldiers in clanking armor whose passing startled rather than reassured her. _Erin, you're almost sixteen years old_, she scolded herself. _You're way too old to be scared of the dark. Now, the map said to go this way until you get to a cross-street_. She was only partway to the cross-street, which she could very faintly make out in the dark, when she heard cries from some of the lower levels. Though she couldn't make out the words, she could hear the alarm and anxiety in the men's voices.

She hurried to the battlement, peering over it intensely, pressing her glasses against her face. Her eyesight was quite poor to begin with, and she had been due in for a new pair of glasses before she left her world, so she found it especially difficult to make out what was happening down on the fields. But presently even she could see the fleeing men, and she realized with a sinking heart that Faramir was returning. The Pelennor was lost, and the men were retreating.

Stumbling in the dark, Erin made her way back to the armory. She burst in, breathing hard, and Sarah, Adrienne, Vilad, and Kalva all looked to her with alarm. "Faramir is retreating! The army's coming back!" Erin managed to say, and then everyone was following her breathlessly back out the door to the battlement.

Even in the minute and a half it had taken Erin to gather her friends, the situation had visibly worsened. The men Erin had seen before had been a company of mainly wounded men, fleeing before the main part of the army. Now came the rest of the men, marching in a much more orderly manner, despite the obvious desperation of their position. In the darkness they looked almost like ants, or perhaps dark spirits marching out of the night to help the besieged Gondorians.

"Faramir! There he is, he must be!" Vilad murmured. "He is the only one who could keep them in such order!"

Even as Vilad spoke, Orcs and Southron men with red banners and fire brands in their hands swept up on horseback. The Gondorians were forced to halt the retreat and stand and fight once more. Erin was concentrating so hard on the mass of men, she almost missed the shadows swooping down from the air, but their harsh, unmistakable cries caught her attention. The Nazgul had come. She gasped, as did the others, though no one left the walls. They were unable to break away from the drama unfolding before their eyes.

Erin felt a brief thrill of excitement. It was happening exactly as the books foretold, as if history were being played out before her eyes, and she was merely a spectator privileged to witness this one moment of the past before being dragged back to the mundane present.

Faramir's orderly retreat quickly became a rout. The men were running wildly, unheeding of anything but the terrible calls above and the pounding hooves of the enemy cavalry behind.

And now, when it seemed too late, a horn call rang out over the field. The Gondorian cavalry, the Knights of Dol Amroth at the fore, sprang from the city walls and galloped toward the beleaguered army. Though Erin could not clearly hear their battle cries, she remembered them. "Amroth for Gondor! Amroth to Faramir!" And indeed, there rode Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth at the head of the charge. Yet one rider outran them all, Gandalf upon the white back of Shadowfax, horse and rider together shining with the pure light of the veiled sun.

Erin, however, was not paying attention to any of this. A single thought, or rather feeling, had caught her attention: the sensation of having her mind drained. She had felt it once before, the last time she had seen a Nazgul, when it had captured her gaze. She gripped the stone of the wall with white-knuckled fingers as the mind-numbing terror returned.

Suddenly she realized with a thrill of fear deeper than any she had felt yet what the Nazgul was doing.

It was reading her mind.

Erin knew she had to do something; she had the knowledge of the giant crossbows, and more importantly, of some factors in the Battle of Pelennor Fields that would turn the tide of battle against Sauron, factors he absolutely _could not_ discover. If he realized what was coming, he might be able to guard against it, might be able to defeat the Gondorians. All their hard work would have been in vain.

With a supreme mental effort, Erin tried to break the connection she could feel in her mind. She tried to imagine walls around her thoughts, tried to block out the Nazgul, but her only response was a dry chuckle, like bare bones rubbing together, as it laughed at her feeble attempt. She could feel its eyes on her, even if she couldn't see it; could sense the power of the Nazgul through their connection.

In one last great effort, Erin closed her eyes, shaking her head vehemently and whispering, "No, no, no!" When she opened them again, the feeling was gone. The terror was gone.

The connection was broken.

She looked around at her friends, who were all staring at her with expressions of confusion and concern. "No what, Erin? What's going on?" asked Adrienne.

Erin forced a nervous smile onto her face. "Nothing…I'll tell you later. This is history in the making," she said, nodding toward the field.

"Erin…it's over," Sarah said, now more concerned than ever. "The men are inside the walls, and Gandalf scared the Ringwraiths away."

"Oh, well then!" Erin said with false optimism that her friends immediately saw through. They could all tell that Erin had been badly shaken by something. "Let's go back inside!" She turned to go.

"Erin!" Adrienne put a hand on Erin's shoulder, forcefully turning her back around. "What the hell happened there! We can all tell something's wrong!"

Erin took a deep breath, sobering. "I'll tell you when we get inside."

Everyone filed inside the armory in an anxious, ominous silence. The moment they were all inside, Erin began taking weapons down off the wall. "We should all carry swords around now, just in case something happens and one of us finds themselves in the middle of a battle," she said as she began distributing them.

"Erin, _what happened_! _Please_ tell us!" Adrienne exclaimed, frustrated by her friend's obvious attempts to dodge their questions.

Erin took a few more seconds to hand the weapons out, then sat down and took a deep breath. "You guys remember, before we came to the armory, the first time Faramir came back from the field?" Adrienne and Sarah nodded. "You know how the Nazgul were out there, and one of them came closer to the city than the others?" They nodded again. "Well…God, this is hard to explain…I had this sensation when I looked at it…our eyes met, and I felt like my mind was being drained, almost."

Adrienne and Sarah just looked confused. "What does that mean?" Sarah asked.

Erin took another deep breath, as if she were about to set forth an idea she wasn't really sure she understood. "I think it was reading my mind."

There were gasps all around. "What do you think it found out?" Adrienne asked.

Erin shook her head. "I don't really know…I think that time the connection was broken too quickly for it to do any significant damage. Gandalf scared it away."

"But that was a couple of days ago. What happened out there?" Sarah asked, even as comprehension dawned on Adrienne's face.

"The same thing, except this time the Nazgul held the connection longer, and I had to forcefully break it." Erin replied. "It may have found out something, but I can't be sure. All I knew was that I was scared stiff and needed to get away."

"How did you break it?" Adrienne asked.

"Break what?" Gandalf's voice sounded from the doorway. Everyone jumped, startled by his sudden entrance. The wizard's face was stern and careworn as he came closer to the huddled group.

Erin took another deep breath, reluctant to explain all over again. "I think the Nazgul have been trying to read my mind," she said.

Gandalf stared for a moment, then moved to her side and roughly pulled her up to face him. "What did you tell them?" he asked sternly.

"Nothing…I don't know…I just felt it…they didn't say anything…" Erin stammered, trailing off. Gandalf's sudden harshness was unnerving.

The wizard stared deep into her eyes, finally sighing in relief. "I do not think you have done harm." He let go of her arm, and she sank back to the floor, still looking up at him in a mixture of fear and relief. "Indeed, if you won a mental battle with a Nazgul, you may have done some good. Perhaps it will weaken their confidence."

"Milord, the weapons are ready to be placed whither you will," Vilad said.

"You were able to build a second?" Gandalf asked.

"Yes, milord." Vilad answered, and Gandalf smiled. "Good work." He was silent for several moments, considering. "I believe I know where to position them," he said finally. "Who will man each weapon?"

"I shall wield one, and Kalva the other, milord," Vilad replied. "One of the girls will be with each of us."

"I'll go with Kalva," volunteered Sarah, glowing as Kalva smiled at her.

Adrienne and Erin chuckled, and Sarah glared at them. "What?"

"Nothing," Erin replied, still smiling. "I can go with Vilad, or you can Adrienne. I don't care either way. But I think you're a little quicker at it than I am."

"I'll do it then," Adrienne replied.

"It's settled then," Gandalf said. "Kalva and Sarah, I shall place yours first." The two followed the wizard back into the practice field, and helped him wheel the giant crossbow onto the street and down a level to the fourth level, where Gandalf led them to a courtyard area. They set the weapon a few feet back from the wall, near the shelter of the west wall, which was solid stone from the outcropping of rock that divided the second through sixth levels of the city down the center.

"You will not be wielding the weapon for another few hours, but I think at least one of you should stay to guard it, from curious eyes if nothing else," Gandalf said. Kalva immediately agreed to do so, and Sarah returned with Gandalf to retrieve part of the stack of arrows she had helped prepare.

When they returned, Gandalf repeated the procedure with Vilad and Adrienne, though they positioned the second giant crossbow on the other side of the divisive outcropping. Adrienne came back to the armory, but before she took the arrows to Vilad, Gandalf summoned them to him. "You should all have swords during this battle, to protect yourselves if you are faced with danger."

"Definitely," agreed Adrienne. "Man, if I run into some Orcs, they are soo dead!"

Erin shook her head in mock annoyance. "Vilad taught us the basics, and we've had some time to spar in the past couple of days. I think we can hold our own, as long as there aren't too many of them. And if there are, well, maybe we'll see Kavila or Megan in the Houses of Healing."

Gandalf nodded. "Good. I shall go down to the men; the Lord of the Nazgul is not called the Captain of Despair for naught. The men are losing hope, and the battle has only just begun." He shook his head, a disheartened gesture that surprised Erin. She remembered his unfailing optimism in the books, and thought now that perhaps Professor Tolkien had not quite got his character right.

She reached out, placing a hand upon his knee. The wizard glanced up at her. "There is still hope," she said, remembering Arwen's line from the movie. "Estel lives yet, and Frodo too." Gandalf looked at her sharply when she mentioned Aragorn, but Erin's expression showed only sympathy. "And you're one of the Maiar, an Istar. You'll know what's needed when the time comes, and you'll do it."

Gandalf nodded, smiling sadly. "So we hope." Then he rose with a sigh, and Erin rose with him. "Can I come with you, Gandalf?"

He glanced at her questioningly, then nodded. She went to the wall and retrieved a sword, taking a few moments to decipher the belt. "Just in case," she responded to Gandalf's unspoken inquiry. Then they left, and Sarah and Adrienne went to their posts.

ADRIENNE left the armory with a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, mixing nauseatingly with a tingling excitement and frustration at the interminable waiting. Despite the work she had kept busy with over the past few days, the hours had not gone by quickly. Each morning she awoke with new hope that today the battle would begin, if for no other reason than to end the anxiety and impatience.

For all her optimism and bravado in the armory, Adrienne felt strong currents of fear coursing through her veins as she wound through the streets of Minas Tirith to join Vilad. Every step brought her nearer to the danger, nearer to the sites where men would be dying before long. It was a terrifying thought.

Even though a small part of her was rejoicing over the possibility that she might be able to fight, the way she had always dreamed from the safety of her home, the majority of her feelings were negative. She knew the odds of getting wounded were not exactly low, and that the Enemy they were up against was no ill-trained troop of brigands. These were warriors, trained and bred to fight, who had been doing so for many years. And she, with a few days' worth of experience in wielding a sword, would be opposing them in battle.

She also knew some of the tactics the Enemy would be using, which did not particularly inspire optimism. In the books the Gondorians had held, despite the atrocities committed quite publicly by the Enemy. But here, in reality rather than on paper, would they still be able to last until the end?

As she moved through the streets with her load of giant arrows, Adrienne felt many looks directed her way, some curious and others less kindly. Perhaps some of them realized she was a woman; or perhaps she looked too young to have remained in the city when most of the women and children had been evacuated. _Or maybe they are just wondering what the heck these arrows are going to be used for_, Adrienne thought.

Finally she reached Vilad, piling the arrows slightly behind the giant crossbow, but within easy reach. She counted herself lucky not to have dropped the load at least once on the way; adjusting to carrying a heavy, unwieldy sword was difficult in the first place, and load itself had been rather awkward to bear as well.

Vilad glanced at the arrows, then at her, nodding approvingly at the sword. Adrienne went to the battlement and looked down at the fields, trying to see what the Enemy was doing.

Orcs were dragging great catapults toward the city, keeping just out of the archers' range. They dug trenches in front of the catapults, filling them with a fire that seemed to burn without fuel. Vilad joined Adrienne at the wall, chuckling at the Orcs' antics. "They will not break down the wall or the gate with those engines," he said confidently.

Adrienne could see no other purpose until the Orcs began firing the catapults. They launched great, flaming boulders high over the walls, so that they sailed into buildings throughout the lower levels of the city. Fires soon began to devour what little wood there was in the city, reaching hungrily into the sky as if grasping for the darkness. The Enemy's strategy was plain: block the streets of the city, and distract and exhaust the soldiers in putting out the fires.

Even from this high in the city, Adrienne could hear the screams and calls of the men, as some were caught in the flames and others tried to organize a fire-fighting company. Finally Adrienne realized the magnitude and reality of their situation: the battle for Minas Tirith was well and truly begun, and she was right here in the middle of it. All her romantic daydreams of the glory of war were being beaten down by the sensations her senses were bombarding her with: the screams, the smells of burning, the crashing of boulders, the flames standing stark against the darkness. She had known before what would happen, had known how and when, but she had never truly comprehended what it would be like to stand in the midst of it.

The most frustrating thing of all was that she could do nothing to stop it.

KAVILA was awakened from a fitful doze by Raliwen's frantic whispering. "Kavila! Kavila, it's started!" The moment her mind processed what Raliwen was saying, she sat up hurriedly, the spare cot she had been resting on creaking beneath her. "What?" she managed.

Raliwen stood back as Kavila rubbed her eyes and rose to her feet. "They've started bombarding the city, hurling boulders over the walls and into the lower levels, boulders set aflame. There are fires everywhere."

Kavila suddenly realized the magnitude of what Raliwen had just said. "Flaming boulders? Into the city? Oh my god I'm not going out there!"

Raliwen grabbed her arm, practically dragging her out of the room. "There are people being brought in with burns from all over the city. Do you know how to treat a burn?"

"Sort of, but…wait, Raliwen!" The woman stopped and turned around, obviously frustrated by Kavila's reluctance. "Do you really need me here? I mean, I'd really like to go find a nice dark hole somewhere…"

"Kavila, we do need you!" Raliwen exclaimed. "You've never helped in a healing house, have you?" Kavila shook her head. "You're doing better after a few hours than most of our new healers. You can handle this. We need all the help we can get here, and that means you."

"You don't understand!" Kavila said, eyes wide as she heard a crashing sound from one of the lower levels. "I really don't think I can do this! I'd be all right if I couldn't hear it, but…"

Raliwen's gaze became sympathetic. "Fear not, I shall not leave your side. You will be safe." She dropped a hand to the knife at her belt, which was meant partially for use in the Houses, and partially for defense if she was retrieving wounded from the field. "The Enemy is not within the city yet."

"Yet? Yet!" Kavila exclaimed, but Raliwen grabbed her arm again and pulled her into a room filled with injured people. Kavila's instincts took over, and she immediately set to the task of treating the many wounded. Not all were soldiers; women and even a few children had been injured in the fires, and the youngsters' cries rose above all other sounds within the room. Yet the sounds of the continuing battle were still audible within the Houses, and as she worked Kavila constantly fought down a sense of anxiety and terror that threatened to send her racing for the nearest cellar.

She and Raliwen finished with the patients in that room, moving on to the next, and the next, until they reached the main hallway. Two men rushed past them, carrying a wounded soldier between them. One was Lindir. "Raliwen, some of the men need help getting to the Houses!" he called, and she nodded.

Before Kavila could protest, Raliwen seized her arm and pulled her out the door and into the street. The sounds of battle were much, much louder out in the open, as though buildings were crumbling all around her, despite the fact that the boulders were actually falling in the lower levels where the soldiers were concentrated. Kavila let out a little scream and dropped to the ground, her arms over her head, as one particularly loud impact crashed about her ears. Raliwen looked back. "Don't worry, we won't go far!" the healer yelled, dragging Kavila to her feet and towards the gate to the fourth level, much to Kavila's horror. She dug in her heels, vehemently shaking her head. "No, no, no! I don't want to go! We could get killed!" she screamed.

Raliwen stopped and grabbed Kavila's shoulders, bringing her face inches from the girl's. "There are men down there badly injured right now, who can be saved if they are brought to the Houses! Are you going to let them die because you are too frightened to go help them!" Raliwen yelled.

Kavila's face contorted with guilt and indecision. _Are you going to let them die?_ Clinging to Raliwen's hand like a small child, she finally forced herself to take a few steps toward the gate, then a few more, keeping up a mental dialogue the entire time. _Are you going to let them die, Kavila? All because you're too scared to go down a level? I've got good reason to be scared, yes, but Raliwen said she wouldn't go far. I can go down a level. Not two, just one. I'm sixteen years old, I can do this. Erin's standing down there in the middle of it all. _Kavila tried to ignore the little voice in the back of her head that remarked that Erin actually wanted to be there.

As they passed through the gate Kavila and Raliwen caught a quick glimpse of the chaos that had consumed the lower levels of the city. Fires burned everywhere, reaching high into the darkness, and even as Kavila looked a boulder hit one of the guard towers on the second level, sending it crashing to the ground. Then they were past, and Kavila realized she was hyperventilating in her terror. That image could have been straight out of some movie; Kavila tried to convince herself it was so, but the hard stone beneath her feet and the fact she was walking around made that difficult.

With every step she took, Kavila scrutinized the surrounding buildings for signs that they were about to collapse. The noise was so loud, echoing off the stone walls, that it seemed the sound alone could cause the buildings to fall. Soldiers and messengers raced past them, both toward and away from the battle, a few of the warriors recognizing Raliwen and informing her of wounded friends.

Suddenly they turned a corner and nearly ran into a soldier, carrying a badly burned comrade in his arms. "We'll take him!" Raliwen yelled. The soldier nodded and laid the wounded man on the cobbles of the street, quickly leaving to return to the battle.

Raliwen grabbed the man under his arms, and Kavila picked up his legs, careful not to touch the burns that scarred his body. The man was heavy, especially with all his armor, and Kavila changed her mental litany slightly. _You can do this, you're strong, you can carry him until you get to the Healing Houses. It can't be that much farther. Just keep moving, just keep moving_, she sang breathlessly in time to her steps.

They were going through a gate, Kavila registered dimly through her haze of terror and physical exertion. Even as they passed through, something landed on the cobblestone in front of them, and Raliwen let out a surprised scream. "Don't look, Kavila!" Kavila faintly heard her yell. She tried to avoid it, but as she passed it she involuntarily caught a glance, and nearly fainted in her tracks.

Instead of boulders, the enemy was casting human heads into the city.

It had been blackened, charred, but was still recognizable as a human face. Kavila felt her stomach churning, and forced herself to breath deeply. Her vision swam for a second, and she realized dimly a moment later that she was screaming. The man beneath her was crying out too, for she had established a death grip on his feet.

Then they were inside the Healing Houses. Kavila would never be quite sure how she made it there, but the moment they were inside the noise level dropped, and Kavila felt a dim sense of relief. She followed Raliwen, almost surprised to find that she was still carrying the injured man. Raliwen had to pry her fingers from the man's ankles, guiding her to a nearby corner, where Kavila sank down with wide eyes and promptly vomited. Kavila didn't raise her head for several minutes, until Raliwen forcefully lifted it, and Kavila realized from the tone of her voice that Raliwen must have been trying to get her attention for several minutes. She saw just before she raised her head that her vomit had disappeared sometime in the last few minutes. "Kavila? Kavila! I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have taken you out there, dear." Raliwen murmured, giving her a quick hug. Kavila just shook her head. She hadn't spoken for several minutes, except to scream. Raliwen must have realized that. "Kavila? Say something to me! Please say something." Kavila let out a little moan and said, "I think I'll stay in here," in an uncharacteristically soft voice. But her eyes weren't so unnaturally wide now, and Raliwen deemed she had calmed down some.

At that moment Megan rushed down the hallway, on her way to help in another room. She saw Kavila sitting against the wall and stopped, letting out a murmur of surprise. "What happened? Are you hurt?" she exclaimed.

Kavila shook her head mutely, but said nothing. Raliwen answered. "I took her outside to help some of the wounded back to the Houses. While we were out there…" Raliwen swallowed hard, and started over. "The enemy is throwing the heads of those who died on the Pelennor into the city," she finished. Megan filled in the gaps herself, immediately realizing the reason for Kavila's distress.

"I ought to return to the lower levels," Raliwen said to Megan. "Will you take care of her?" She nodded toward Kavila.

"Yeah, sure," Megan replied, and Raliwen quickly left. "Kavila?" Kavila's eyes met hers, and Megan could see the fear and despair in them. "You wanna come with me?"

Kavila shook her head vehemently, and Megan immediately realized her mistake. "We'll stay inside," she reassured her friend. "Just in this room here."

Kavila nodded, still saying nothing. Megan didn't really know what to do, except perhaps to immerse her friend in the frantic pace of the Healing Houses. She helped Kavila to her feet, and they moved together to a nearby cot, where a soldier was groaning in pain from a multitude of burns. Megan quickly stripped the cloth and armor away from his injuries, and together the two girls began to clean and bandage them.

Megan did more work than Kavila, who was still recovering from her dazed state. But despite not being fully aware of her surroundings, Kavila could easily tell that Megan knew what she was doing, though she hadn't seen Megan working with an adult healer. After they had treated several patients together, Kavila asked her about it.

"I spent a month during the summer at a well-known medical college in Guadalajara," Megan answered. "I learned a lot there, just all in Spanish. But I can still bandage wounds and stuff, even if I don't know the English names for the herbs I'm using. And then there was that book I read, too. That's helped me some."

Once they learned each other's areas of expertise, the two girls worked extremely well together. The fast pace of the work made time pass quickly and occupied all of their attention, so that both lost track of the hour. They worked tirelessly, failing to notice that most of the healers had retired and the number of wounded men coming in was steadily decreasing, before a healer finally stopped them.

Unbeknownst to them, they had earned the praise and respect of several healers who had seen them working. "You have done admirable work, girls." the man said. "There has been a lull in the battle. I know not how long it shall last, but you both ought to rest."

As if the man's suggestion had prompted it, the rush of adrenaline that had sustained them for the past several hours finally gave out, and both girls swayed on their feet. Kavila suddenly realized that the chaos outside had been replaced by an eerie silence; she didn't know how long ago it had happened, since she had been so absorbed in her work.

"Where…?" Megan managed to ask, and the man led them to a couple of spare cots in a room at the back of the Houses. The girls collapsed onto them, both asleep before their heads hit the pillows. The man smiled as he drew blankets over them, then left them to rest in peace.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

-----DURING all this black day Faramir lay upon his bed in the chamber of the White Tower, wandering in a desperate fever; dying someone said, and soon 'dying' all men were saying upon the walls and in the streets. And by him his father sat, and said nothing, but watched, and gave no longer any heed to the defense.

No hours so dark had Pippin known, not even in the clutches of the Uruk-hai. It was his duty to wait upon the Lord, and wait he did, forgotten it seemed, standing by the door of the unlit chamber, mastering his own fears as best he could. And as he watched, it seemed to him that Denethor grew old before his eyes, as if something had snapped in his proud will, and his stern mind was overthrown. Grief maybe had wrought it, and remorse. He saw tears on that once tearless face, more unbearable than wrath.

"Do not weep, lord," he stammered. "Perhaps he will get well. Have you asked Gandalf?"

"Comfort me not with wizards!" said Denethor. "The fool's hope has failed. The Enemy has found it, and now his power waxes; he sees our very thoughts, and all we do is ruinous.

"I sent my son forth, unthanked, unblessed, out into needless peril, and here he lies with poison in his veins. Nay, nay, whatever may now betide in war, my line too is ending, even the House of the Stewards has failed. Mean folk shall rule the last remnant of the Kings of Men, lurking in the hills until all are hounded out."

Men came to the door crying for the Lord of the City. "Nay, I will not come down," he said. "I must stay beside my son. He might still speak before the end. But that is near. Follow whom you will, even the Grey Fool, though his hope has failed. Here I stay."

-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

-----

ERIN followed Gandalf among the soldiers in a half-daze of thought. The message had come a while ago that Denethor had relinquished command of the city, and Gandalf had quickly taken action. It was almost as if he had been waiting for that moment to instigate the plans which he had harbored since the beginning of the battle.

And yet Erin knew the battle had only just begun. The initial bombardment, however horrendous, was but a small part of the Enemy's plans for this city which had frustrated his designs for centuries.

Their Lord having abandoned them when they needed his support most, the men were disheartened and quiet in their posts. Gandalf went from group to group speaking, his words laced with a steel will that offered hope and invited trust. His coming chased away the darkness of both air and heart, as he strode tirelessly from level to level, company to company. Many times Prince Imrahil walked with him and brought further strength to the Gondorians' will.

The Nazgul had not desisted, circling high above the city, out of the archers' reach. Gandalf had sent orders to Vilad and Kalva to hold their arrows until the battle was well and truly begun and they had a surer shot. But the Nazguls' presence did not improve the general depression of the soldiers, who cringed with terror at each passing.

"You are men of Minas Tirith, and this is your city," Gandalf was saying now, speaking to yet another uniformed company. "You will not suffer it to fall into Enemy hands. You will fight even when there seems no hope left. For this is a great city, and does not deserve to be defiled with the filth of Orc boots and dark blood. Today you saw the faces of your comrades who fell fighting valiantly, defiled and dishonoured. Would you have their sacrifice be in vain? Would you let their humiliation go unavenged? No! You will fight to the end, for those dead and for those still living and for your country!"

Then Imrahil stepped up, speaking in the same manner, and Gandalf drew off to the side next to Erin. She saw with some alarm that he was nearly trembling with weariness. "Gandalf, you should rest," she whispered.

He shook his head slightly. "No, I shall not. I am needed too greatly here. The men's strength is sapped by the darkness and the chill cry of the Ringwraiths; their Lord has abandoned them, and I cannot do the same." The wizard's shoulders slumped with a sigh. "They need a hero, one who can whip their hearts into a furor of righteous anger and lead them to victory."

"And then a hero comes along," Erin sang softly, and Gandalf looked at her curiously. "with the strength to carry on…and you cast your fears aside, and you know you can survive…"

Gandalf nodded toward the men with a small smile, the closest of whom had been listening to her soft song. "They are the ones who should hear that," he whispered, and Erin sang more loudly, though her heart was stricken with a sudden fear. Erin did not like excessive attention; she especially hated performing or being on a stage, for whatever reason. No one had ever really praised or criticized her voice, though she liked to say that there was a reason she had joined band rather than choir in junior high. "So when you feel like hope is gone, look inside you and be strong, and you'll finally see the truth: that a hero lies in you…" Her hands were trembling now, as more and more soldiers turned to look at her. She felt as if all eyes were turned solely to her, and judged her every move and word like a prized mare in a competition. "Lord knows, dreams are hard to follow, but don't let anyone tear them away. Hold on, there will be tomorrow; in time, you'll find the way…" Erin turned, holding out a shaking hand toward Gandalf, as if presenting him to the soldiers. "And then a hero comes along, with the strength to carry on, and you cast your fears aside, and you know you can survive." She turned back to face the men, gaining confidence as she neared the end of the song. "So when you feel like hope is gone, look inside you and be strong, and you'll finally see the truth: that a hero lies in you…" she trailed off and gave an awkward bow as several of the soldiers applauded her. "Again!" a few called, and though she tried to edge over toward Gandalf, hoping he would step forth and make another inspirational speech, he just nudged her back towards her audience.

Gandalf regarded her with smiling eyes when she finally rejoined him, flushed with embarrassment and pleasure. He escorted her on to the next group, saying, "That, my lady, was truly an unexpected gift. Have you any other songs to sing this night? The men enjoy music and the comfort of your words."

"Perhaps..." replied Erin, trailing off as she mentally flipped through her music case. "Think you could work something about miracles into your next speech? I have another that would tie into that very well."

"I am certain I can, my lady," chuckled Gandalf.

SARAH stared out at the dark mass that was the Pelennor Fields, watching the Orc army. It was like a seething anthill that never rested; even now, when their siege engines were no longer firing, they were not still.

The fires continued to rage through the first and second levels, devouring all in their paths. It made it even more difficult to see the fields through the glare. Every once in awhile Sarah would catch a glimpse of white among the burning yellow and orange and dark charred streets as Gandalf passed among the men.

Gandalf had sent orders earlier that they do nothing against the Nazgul, though the Fell Beasts were swooping over the city, often within a few meters of the battlement where she and Kalva crouched. She had watched with horror and fear as the Enemy bombardment dragged on, though her fear slowly became anger as she saw the breaking of will that the terrible carnage wrought on Minas Tirith's men. She had fought the feelings of helpless anger that made her fingers twitch to grasp a sword as the men's screams of rage and sorrow drifted up with the smoke. The Captain of Despair knew what he was doing, that was for certain. But the fact that he would stoop to such dirty, heinous tactics…it was chilling and infuriating.

And yet at the same time, Sarah thought, he may have underestimated the effect of his tactics. The rage and desire for revenge that that display of butchery had incited among the Gondorians was far fiercer than any words could have achieved. Though Sarah was not by nature a violent person, the looks on some of the men's faces as they passed her on the way to the mess hall had brought to the fore a fierce desire to make the Dark Lord pay for what he had done here. No one had a right to be that cruel, no matter how much power he wielded or how great his hatred for his adversary.

"Sarah, are you well?" Kalva asked softly, coming to stand behind her.

Sarah realized with a start that her fists were clenched, her breathing harsh and fast. She took a few moments to calm herself before answering. "Yes."

Kalva placed a hand atop hers where it rested on the wall. "I too wish the waiting would end," he murmured. Then he was silent, and for a few minutes neither spoke.

"Where is your homeland, Sarah?" Kalva asked suddenly, startling Sarah. "Where are your parents, your family? For certainly you are lonely here, with only your friends."

Sarah hesitated for a moment in her answer, knowing instinctively that she should not tell, that in doing so she risked alienating herself and her friends from the only people in Middle Earth whom they knew well. But even as these thoughts crossed her mind, a new emotion welled up inside her: a need to tell everything and a deep shame at keeping such secrets from Kalva, who had shown her such kindness. She couldn't lie to him, she knew, and she could no longer bear the isolation of not being able to speak of her world.

"I am not from Middle Earth," she began, the homesickness which she had suppressed by sheer force of will over the past few days coming to the surface. "I don't really know how I came to Minas Tirith. Probably magic, since we arrived in Gandalf's room."

"What is your land called?" Kalva asked.

"Earth." Sarah answered. "It's not a place I could show you on a map. It's…another world, basically."

"Another world?" Kalva exclaimed, obviously astonished and bewildered. "Then how are you like us? And how do you know of us?"

Sarah answered Kalva's second question first. "We have books in our world, and they describe the War of the Ring. That's the only reason we've been able to fit in even half as well as we have. But as for how we look human…I don't know. I don't understand all of this. I don't get how Middle Earth even exists." Sarah shook her head, at a loss for words or thoughts to explain. "The only person who might have any idea would be Gandalf." She turned to face Kalva. "Do you believe me, Kalva?" she asked, suddenly feeling it the most important thing in the world that he understand.

Kalva was silent for many long moments. "I don't know," he finally said. "I suppose yes. There was always something different about you girls: your accents, your manner of speech, the way you conducted yourselves…you are not like women of Middle Earth."

"No, we're not," Sarah said with a sigh. "In my world, women are virtually equal to men, and so I guess we would act differently than you're used to seeing women act. We don't see a difference between 'men's jobs' and 'women's jobs'; we do what we're best at, whether it's fighting or construction or healing. In my world, there are even lots of women in the army."

Kalva pondered this for a moment. "Were you in the army?" he finally asked.

Sarah laughed. "No, I wasn't old enough to join. But I probably wouldn't have anyway. I don't like guns."

"Guns?" Kalva asked, confused by the new term.

Sarah grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I forgot you don't know what those are. They're the weapons we use…they are much smaller than bows and shoot tiny pellets of metal called bullets really, really fast. They do a lot of damage. There are worse weapons too, that can destroy entire cities. But we used to have swords and bows and stuff. We just…evolved."

Kalva was silent for several moments, and then changed the subject. "And what of your family? Have you one?"

Sarah felt tears rising as their faces paraded through her mind. "Yes, I do," she answered finally. Normally she would not be so homesick; she had spent a week at a time away from home during several church trips. But the stress and exhaustion and fear of the past few days broke down her emotional barriers. "They're still there in my world, as far as I know. They're probably worried sick about me. Except for Adam. He's probably jumping up and down."

"Adam? Is he your brother?" asked Kalva.

"Yeah…my little brother. He's eight years younger than me, and he's the most annoying creature God ever created. I honestly don't even think he's human sometimes. He gets endlessly spoiled, and never does anything except play video and computer games."

"What are those?" Kalva asked.

"Umm…games we play in my world…" Sarah thought for a moment but couldn't come up with any clear way to explain. "I don't really get how they work; they use technology I don't understand."

"What about your home? What is it like?" he questioned.

At that moment both Sarah and Kalva heard footsteps behind them, and turned quickly to find a slightly embarrassed messenger, who obviously thought he had been interrupting something. "Lord Gandalf bade me warn you that the next battle nears and you have orders to fire upon the Fell Beasts," he recited.

Kalva nodded. "Thank you," he said, and the messenger returned to the lower levels and the impending battle. Kalva and Sarah readied the giant crossbow in silence, their reminiscent mood broken. Soon all thoughts of home were banished from Sarah's mind by the furor of battle and cries of the hungry Nazgul.

-----MESSENGERS came again to the chamber in the White Tower, and Pippin let them enter, for they were urgent. Denethor turned his head slowly from Faramir's face, and looked at them silently.

"The first circle of the City is burning, lord," they said. "What are your commands? You are still the Lord and Steward. Not all will follow Mithrandir. Men are flying from the walls and leaving them unmanned."

"Why? Why do the fools fly?" said Denethor. "Better to burn sooner than late, for burn we must. Go back to your bonfire! And I? I will go now to my pyre. To my pyre! No tomb for Denethor and Faramir. No tomb! No long slow sleep of death embalmed. We will burn like heathen kings before ever a ship sailed hither from the West. The West has failed. Go back and burn!"

The messengers without bow or answer turned and fled.

Now Denethor stood up and released the feverish hand of Faramir that he had held. "He is burning, already burning," he said sadly. "The house of his spirit crumbles." Then stepping softly towards Pippin he looked down at him.

"Farewell!" he said. "Farewell, Peregrin son of Paladin! Your service has been short, and now it is drawing to an end. I release you from the little that remains. Go now, and die in what way seems best to you. And with whom you will, even that friend whose folly brought you to this death. Send for my servants and then go. Farewell!"

"I will not say farewell, my lord," said Pippin kneeling. And then suddenly hobbit-like once more, he stood up and looked the old man in the eyes. "I will take your leave, sir," he said. "for I want to see Gandalf very much indeed. But he is no fool; and I will not think of dying until he despairs of life. But from my word and your service I do not wish to be released while you live. And if they come at last to the Citadel, I hope to be here and stand beside you and earn perhaps the arms that you have given me."

"Do as you will, Master Halfling," said Denethor. "But my life is broken. Send for my servants!" He turned back to Faramir.

-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

-----

ERIN stared with growing horror at the approaching army. They had left cleverly disguised passages through the trenches of fire, upon which they now marched in endless file. The catapults had been silent for many hours, and now the Dark Lord was unveiling his next assault. Siege towers rolled forward through the darkness, great wooden constructions built in Osgiliath only a few days past, dragged by giant trolls.

Erin readied her crossbow. Gandalf had ordered her to find one earlier, when she had asked to be allowed to fight. Though fear clutched at her stomach with icy fingers, she forced herself to bring to mind thoughts of the men of Gondor, the ones she had sung to and whose disillusionment she had marveled at only a few hours past. Many of them stood beside her now upon the outer battlement, and they allowed no hint of their terror to show upon their faces. A desperate courage shone in their eyes, lit by the knowledge that they most likely would not survive the battle, but would die fighting. She remembered their expressions of rage and despair during the Enemy's gruesome shower and felt the same determination rise in her. Any commander who would condone such carnage did not deserve to fly the flag of victory.

Below them, behind the great Gate and the small company of men who guarded it, Gandalf sat upon Shadowfax. When Erin glanced at his stern yet determined countenance, further resolve filled her heart. Gandalf did not yet despair and was still alive; that alone counted for something.

Suddenly he called, "Light your arrows!" Erin watched as bowmen on either side of her lit the tips of their arrows, lifting the bows into position. She did nothing; this was the hour of the longbows. "Fire at the siege towers!" Gandalf yelled, and a great flurry of fire-tipped arrows rained down upon the towers. Three of the five burst into spectacular flame, glowing like giant candles against the night. One of the remaining two was directly ahead of Erin.

"Again!" Gandalf called, and again the archers lit their arrows. Again the bright display was launched into the darkness. This time no siege towers survived the assault, but the army came on about them. Now was the time for crossbows, not fire-tipped but silent and deadly in the darkness.

"Crossbows—" Gandalf called, and Erin drew hers back, adrenaline lending her unnatural strength. She aimed at one of the shifting shapes in the darkness just as Vilad had taught her. "Fire!" came Gandalf's voice, gruff and loud, and Erin released her bolt. She knew not if it flew true, for it was too dark to tell, but many squeals and screams rose up from the plain below as the hail of bolts dropped noiselessly.

"Fire at will!" Gandalf yelled, and Erin hurriedly nocked another bolt from the quiver at her right hip. She had just let fly her fourth when a near silence descended over the approaching army, which had stopped its march mere feet from the walls. The quiet was broken only by the solemn, ominous beat of drums and a few mailed feet. With growing dread Erin turned her gaze toward the Gate and beheld the reason for the Orcs' strange behavior.

"ANOTHER arrow! Quickly!" called Vilad softly. Adrienne raced to grab one, swiftly slipping it into its groove. Vilad's hands flew over the crossbow as he nocked the arrow and adjusted various parts, drawing back the string with a winch. Adrienne stared into the darkness with wide eyes, trying vainly to catch a glimpse of the Nazgul at whom they were to fire. Every once in awhile, always far off, she would see a brief flash of black wing, or hear a sound like tent canvas flapping in the wind.

Suddenly a shrill cry came from directly in front of them. Adrienne could see no clear form, nothing at which to shoot in the darkness, but it seemed Vilad had much better eyesight than she. Vilad peered for a moment, following the swooping movement of the Nazgul with the crossbow, looking almost like an anti-aircraft gunner. But unlike the gunner, Vilad only had one shot before he had to reload. They had tried once before and missed; this was their second attempt, and Adrienne hoped it succeeded so that they could do some good before they were discovered.

With a sharp twang and a sound of air being slashed apart, the arrow was shot. A few moments later an enraged shriek split the night, and there was a sound of frantic flapping as the Nazgul retreated. They had scored their first hit.

A triumphant grin on her face, Adrienne retrieved a third arrow, and Vilad returned her smile as he readied it. But it disappeared when his ears caught the sound of more wings. "They've discovered us," he whispered, returning his gaze to the darkness. Adrienne felt a chill run through her.

Suddenly there was a violent swish of wings directly above them, and a Nazgul's shrill scream split the air. Adrienne dropped to the ground with a cry, her hands over her ears, as the howl persisted. It grew steadily louder and more piercing, until she felt as though her eardrums would burst. Fear wracked her body with helpless shivers, keeping her frozen to the ground like a rabbit hunted by a hawk. She thought she heard a man's scream and the sound of breaking wood. Then the Nazgul was gone, disappearing silently into the darkness.

Adrienne remained crouched for several seconds, looking up only when she heard a soft groan from the other side of the courtyard. The first thing she saw was the ruined crossbow, splintered wood littering the street. "Vilad?" she called quietly, and was answered by another groan. She rose to her feet, scanning the street for movement as she made her way toward the other wall.

Suddenly her foot came up against something solid, but not as hard as stone. As her foot made contact, she heard another groan, from right at her feet. She had found Vilad.

She knelt beside him. "Vilad! Vilad! How are you hurt?" she whispered. There was no answer.

She felt his face, and found his eyes were closed. He was still breathing, and still had a pulse, but both breath and heartbeat were faint. He was not conscious.

As Adrienne moved her hands down his body, she encountered something large: a great piece of the weapon had fallen upon his leg, pinning it and perhaps crushing it. Vilad had probably passed out from the pain, Adrienne decided. She tried once, but could not lift the wood section that trapped his leg. She needed help.

"Healers! There is a wounded man on the fourth level!" Adrienne cried the moment she was within the doorway of the Houses of Healing. She had no time to marvel at the place, which for her was almost a legend. Great things would happen here in the next few days, perhaps even the next few hours.

She gasped breaths of hot air filled with the scents of blood and sweat, trying to ignore the stench. Two men ran to her side, one significantly taller than the other. "Lead us to him," the taller healer said.

Adrienne spoke no further, and they asked no questions, even when they reached the darkened courtyard where Vilad had been injured and saw the remains of the giant crossbow. It took them many terrifying minutes to locate him again among the wreckage. The healers managed, though barely, to lift the section of wood from Vilad's leg; it was several feet long, dense and thick. Vilad's condition had not improved; he was still unconscious.

The healers lifted him with some difficulty and carried him to the Healing Houses, stopping twice along the way to rest their arms. Adrienne was seething with impatience by the time they finally reached the Houses. He was placed in a room near the rear of the Houses, where the soldiers too grievously wounded to return to battle were being treated. Adrienne watched helplessly as two healers immediately began cleaning and setting the smashed bone, others moving from cot to cot around her. A woman carrying a bucket of fresh water bumped her on the right, then a man with bandages on the left, and another with a second bucket nearly spilled it on her when she stepped suddenly into his path.

Adrienne quickly saw that there was no use in remaining here. Much as she would have liked to watch the healers work, she was only in the way. She didn't know enough about medicine to be much aid.

As she stepped out of the Healing Houses, the distant, flickering fires on the Pelennor Fields caught Adrienne's eye, and she was struck with a sudden idea. She _could_ still be of help! Adrienne raced down the street, disappearing into the darkness.

-----PIPPIN left Denethor and called for the servants, and they came: six men of the household, strong and fair; yet they trembled at the summons. But in a quiet voice Denethor bade them lay warm coverlets on Faramir's bed and take it up. And they did so, and lifting up the bed they bore it from the chamber.

Out from the White Tower they walked, as if to a funeral, out into the darkness, where the overhanging cloud was lit beneath with flickers of dull red. Softly they paced the great courtyard, and then they went on through the Citadel gate, where the sentinel stared at them in wonder and dismay as they passed by. Turning westward they came at length to a door in the rearward wall of the sixth circle. Fen Hollen it was called, for it was kept ever shut save at times of funeral, and only the Lord of the City might use that way, or those who bore the token of the tombs and tended the houses of the dead. Beyond it stood the mansions of the dead Kings and of their Stewards.

A porter sat in a little house beside the way, and with fear in his eyes he came forth bearing a lantern in his hand. At the Lord's command he unlocked the door, and they passed through. Their slow feet echoed as they walked down, down, until at last they came to the Silent Street, Rath Dinen, between pale domes and empty halls and images of men long dead; and they entered into the House of the Stewards and set down their burden.

There Pippin, staring uneasily about him, saw that he was in a wide vaulted chamber, draped as it were with the great shadows that the little lantern threw upon its shrouded walls. And dimly to be seen were many rows of tables, carved of marble; and upon each table lay a sleeping form, hands folded, head pillowed upon stone. But one table near at hand stood broad and bare. Upon it they laid Faramir and his father side by side, and covered them with one covering, and stood then with bowed heads as mourners beside a bed of death. Then Denethor spoke in a low voice.

"Here we will wait," he said. "But send not for the embalmers. Bring us wood quick to burn, and lay it all about us, and beneath; and pour oil upon it. And when I bid you thrust in a torch. Do this and speak no more to me. Farewell!"

"By your leave, lord!" said Pippin and turned and fled in terror from the deathly house. "Poor Faramir!" he thought. "I might find Gandalf. Poor Faramir! Quite likely he needs medicine more than tears. Oh, where can I find Gandalf? In the thick of things, I suppose; and he will have no time to spare for dying men or madmen."

At the door he turned to one of the servants who had remained on guard there. "Your master is not himself," he said. "Go slow! Bring no fire to this place while Faramir lives! Do nothing until Gandalf comes!"

Pippin sped back out through the door, and on, till he came near the gate of the Citadel. The sentinel hailed him as he went by, and he recognized the voice of Beregond.

"Whither do you run, Master Peregrin?" he cried.

"To find Mithrandir," Pippin answered.

"Tell me quickly, if you may: what goes forward? Whither has my Lord gone? I have just come on duty, but I heard that he passed towards the Closed Door, and men were bearing Faramir before him."

"Yes," said Pippin. "to the Silent Street."

Beregond bowed his head to hide his tears. "They said that he was dying," he sighed, "and now he is dead."

"No," said Pippin. "not yet. And even now his death might be prevented, I think. But the Lord of the City, Beregond, has fallen before the city is taken. He is fey and dangerous." Quickly he told of Denethor's strange words and deeds. "I must find Gandalf at once. But, Beregond, if you can, do something to stop any dreadful thing happening."

"The Lord does not permit those who wear the black and silver to leave their post for any cause, save at his own command."

"Well, you must choose between orders and the life of Faramir," said Pippin. "And as for the other, I think you have a madman to deal with, not a lord."

He ran on, down, down towards the outer city. At last he was through the Second Gate, beyond which great fires leaped up between the walls. Yet it seemed strangely silent. No noise or shouts of battle or din of arms could be heard. Then suddenly there was a dreadful cry and a great shock, and a deep echoing boom. Forcing himself on against a gust of fear and horror that shook him almost to his knees, Pippin turned a corner opening on the wide place behind the City Gate. He stopped dead. He had found Gandalf; but he shrank back, cowering into a shadow.

-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

-----

A GIANT battering ram was being drawn to the Gate by the huge, lumbering forms of the oliphaunts, hung from its frame by mighty chains. Orcs surrounded it in a cluster of guards, and mountain trolls followed to wield it. The ram was at least a hundred feet long, and its head was shaped of black steel in the image of a great, ravenous wolf. It was named Grond.

Erin felt dread and defeat rising in her heart. A clattering of hooves on the stairs behind her drew Erin's attention, and she turned to find Gandalf mounting the battlement upon Shadowfax, come to find out the reason for the silence. He regarded the scene below for a matter of moments before issuing orders.

"Stand not silent and dumb! Archers, light your arrows and burn the ram! Crossbowmen, fire upon the beasts!" he called, and they responded without hesitation. But no fire would catch upon the ram; Erin remembered now that it was enchanted. Several of the oliphaunts were driven mad by the aerial assault, but more replaced them and the Orc guards they trampled in their terror. And still Grond crawled on.

"Gandalf!" Erin called, and he came to her. "It's called Grond, and it's enchanted by the Nazgul Lord!" she told him softly. He regarded her quizzically, but before he could reply his attention was drawn back to the field.

A single dark form rode silently over the hills of fallen Orcs, and though she could not see his face nor any other part of him clearly, Erin knew immediately who he was: the Lord of Angmar, Captain of Despair. He came abreast of the great battering ram and drew his pale sword, pointing it directly at the roiling clouds above, and as if signaled, the mountain trolls came forth to bear the ram. All activity inside and outside the walls of Minas Tirith ceased as the trolls took it up and with a great cry thrust it at the Gate. All held their breath, and time seemed to slow as Grond neared the apex of its stroke.

A great thunder trembled through the walls, but the Gate held against its mighty blow.

Now the Black Captain stood in his stirrups and spoke a spell in the evil tongue of Mordor. The second time the Gate withstood the ram's blow, but the third time, with the aid of the Morgul Lord's terrible words, the Gate was riven asunder with a sound more terrible than any thunder that ever shook the earth. There was a flash of lightning as the Gate burst apart and fell in pieces to the street, and for a brief moment of astonishment there was silence within the walls.

Then Gandalf rode down the stairs and to the archway, and, as if startled awake by his movement, the rest of the men went into action. Like a great wave, they fled off the battlements and toward the next level, and Erin was carried with them, powerless to fight against the rush of alarmed cries and the crushing press of men. She craned her head, trying to catch a glimpse of Gandalf, but aside from a flash of white too brief to tell she could make out nothing as she was swept away in a thunder of pounding feet.

-----IN RODE the Lord of the Nazgul. A great black shape against the fires beyond he loomed up, grown to a vast menace of despair. In rode the Lord of the Nazgul, under the archway that no enemy ever yet had passed, and all fled before his face.

All save one. There waiting, silent and still in the space before the Gate, sat Gandalf upon Shadowfax: Shadowfax who alone among the free horses of the earth endured the terror, unmoving, steadfast as a graven image in Rath Dinen.

"You cannot enter here," said Gandalf, and the huge shadow halted. "Go back to the abyss prepared for you! Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your Master. Go!"

The Black Rider flung back his hood, and behold! he had a kingly crown; and yet upon no head visible was it set. The red fires shone between it and the mantled shoulders vast and dark. From a mouth unseen there came deadly laughter.

"Old fool!" he said. "Old fool! This is my hour. Do you not know Death when you see it? Die now and curse in vain!" And with that he lifted high his sword, and flames ran down the blade.

Gandalf did not move. And in that very moment, away behind in some courtyard of the City, a cock crowed. Shrill and clear he crowed, recking nothing of wizardry or war, welcoming only the morning that in the sky far above the shadows of death was coming with the dawn.

And as if in answer there came from far away another note. Horns, horns, horns. In dark Mindolluin's sides they dimly echoed. Great horns of the North wildly blowing. Rohan had come at last.

-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

-----


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

ERIN looked out at the remains of Minas Tirith's great army, huddled together in the streets. Most of the men were physically unharmed, and a couple thousand were gathered here among the streets of the second level. But their courage and resolve had long been reduced to a tattered shadow of its former brilliance. It showed in their eyes, dull with weariness and despair. It showed in their stances, as they slumped against the wall or stood with heads bowed in defeat. It showed in the silence of the air around them, as they all looked inward, examining themselves in their last minutes of existence.

Each drumbeat sent shivers of fear skittering up Erin's spine, until she could barely hold herself in place. She wanted to run far away, as far as she could get from the stench and screams and terror of war. In moments the Orcs would begin to break down the second gate. However well the men of Minas Tirith fought, they would be pressed back to the third gate, and the fourth, and so on until they reached the Citadel itself, leaving a trail of brave, dead men behind them. Their resistance was futile.

Suddenly Erin heard sobs. She looked down to find a soldier, not much older than she, huddled miserably against the wall. Erin knelt at his side, placing a hand gently upon his shoulder. He glanced up in surprise, and Erin had to stifle her own tears as the man's terror-stricken eyes met her own. They widened when he saw who offered him comfort. "You…you're the…Gandalf's—"

"I'm Erin," she interrupted with a small smile.

"Galbin, my lady. Forgive me," he introduced himself, self-consciously brushing the tears from his cheeks. Erin decided to let the "my lady" part go. For now.

"For what?" Erin asked.

"I should not show such weakness," he answered, bowing his head as he tried again to control his emotions. Erin's smile disappeared as her heart melted in sorrow for the man. He was one of those who should not have fought, should not have been forced to witness war's horrors.

"You are no soldier," Erin replied. He was indeed very young, and certainly wasn't built strongly enough to have endured a soldier's training. "You weren't meant to fight. Don't be ashamed of your fear. You aren't the only one who wished to flee and leave all this behind you."

The man seemed surprised by her words. "But you…your song…" he stuttered.

"But we are not afraid, although we know there's much to fear…" Erin sang softly, and he nodded. She smiled a little. "You didn't see my hands shaking when I sang that, did you?" Galbin shook his head. "Well, they were." Erin held her hands up in front of her face, displaying them to him. "And they're shaking now. I'm just as scared as everyone else here, and I strongly doubt I'm hiding it well." Erin stood, and pulled Galbin to his feet. "But that song," she continued. "You know what the next line is? 'Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill,'" By now Erin had gained the attention of several nearby soldiers as well. "Lord Gandalf and Lord Imrahil are yet alive. As long as they stand, we have hope. And do not give up on the Rohirrim yet, either! They are not so faithless that they would abandon Gondor in her need. There is still hope, and we must hold to it, because if we succumb to despair then we are already defeated. If we are destined to die here, then let us do so in such a way that we may be sung of in later years when light and joy, not darkness and despair, reign over the land!"

As if summoned by her words, a chorus of horns broke out from the Pelennor Fields. "Rohan!" one soldier breathed, and soon all were shouting it like a war cry. "Rohan! Rohan is come!"

Erin shared a quick smile with Galbin. Suddenly there was a clatter of hooves on the street behind them, and the musical voice of Prince Imrahil called, "Open the gates!" His cavalrymen rode through behind him, and the men of Gondor followed with a yell. Hope was restored. The time had come for action, for a last stand that would be immortalized in song and book for many ages.

Erin found herself caught up in the flow, excitement racing through her veins like a drug. The fear was still present, but the energy of the moment forced it to the back of her mind. She let out her own yell as she drew her sword, rejoicing at the way the steel felt in her hand.

Suddenly Erin thought she heard an answering call from behind her. She turned, but in the chaos of the charge she could get few clear views. Had it been an echo? Her high-pitched voice certainly would have stood out among the men's deeper cries.

There was a flash of long, wavy brown hair and a familiar face, a glittering sword held before it: Adrienne. Erin tried to slow herself, to let the men swarm around her, or to fight her way through the crowd back to Adrienne. Adrienne in turn tried to push forward, and eventually they met, calling out swift greetings.

There was no time for more talk. The ruins of the first gate rose to either side of them, lit with the frighteningly abstract shadows of the men as they passed through like an army of dark spirits. Then they were through, out on the Pelennor Fields themselves, and Erin got her first close-up look at a real Orc.

They were hideous, twisted creatures, yellowed teeth protruding from between their black lips. Their hair was black and stringy, matted with grime. Their dark skin, similarly coated in filth, bunched like crinkled paper as they moved their weapons.

Their very dangerous-looking weapons.

Erin suddenly had second thoughts about fighting in this battle. She moved closer to Adrienne, finding that Adrienne had done the same. Erin may have fantasized about this day for years, but here…it was different. Before, with her crossbow, it had been easy to kill them from a distance. But to slay with her sword, she would have to get close, and she would have to purposely inflict wounds on another. Close to their twisted, snarling faces, within range of their sharp, hooked weapons. This was hand-to-hand combat.

The tide of men swept Erin and Adrienne forward until they could no longer avoid the Orcs, who were only feet away and grinning ferociously. Erin froze in fear as the Orc directly in front of her jabbed his sword forward to impale her. At the last moment she managed to recall the correct block, bringing her sword around in an arc to knock the Orc's to the right. As the music of the swords' meeting reached Erin's ears, all her doubts were dispelled by the fury of battle. The Orc used the momentum of her block, swinging his sword into position for an overhead strike. Erin reversed her block and swung her sword up to meet it. However, she could bring little strength to bear in this move since her weapon was in an odd position parallel to the ground, and the Orc forced her sword almost to her knees. She disengaged, and before the Orc could make another move, she brought her foot up into its throat. The Orc fell back, choking; her arms might not be all that strong, but she was angry and she could definitely put some power into a kick. Before the Orc could react to her move, Erin lunged forward and jabbed the sword into his chest, putting all her weight behind it. It slid in halfway, and Erin watched in horrified fascination as the weapon shook with the death spasms of the Orc's chest muscles. Then the Orc collapsed bonelessly and Erin lost her grip on the sword. She grabbed it again, placed her foot on the dead Orc's chest, and pulled as hard as she could. The weapon came free, followed by a spurt of black blood that made her want to throw up. The lower half of her sword was crisscrossed with dark lines of blood, and Erin resisted the urge to wipe it clean.

Suddenly Erin remembered Adrienne. In the fog of battle, she had completely forgotten about her friend. She whirled, a shout on her lips, to find Adrienne only a few feet away.

Adrienne was standing over the body of one dead Orc, and had engaged a second, her brows knitted in concentration as she blocked and parried. She was truly a magnificent sight, her eyes wild and long hair flying about her head as she ducked and moved.

Suddenly movement beneath Adrienne caught Erin's eye. The dead Orc beneath Adrienne was not, it seemed, completely devoid of life. Even as Erin watched, it pulled out a knife and, with a last breath, plunged it into Adrienne's leg.

Adrienne let out a scream, her mask of concentration shattered. She looked down, and screamed again when she saw the knife in her leg.

The Orc she had been fighting seemed to snarl in glee as his opponent was distracted, moving to deal her a deathblow. Erin cried out in horror, leaping forward. With a yell of anger she brought her sword around in an arc, embedding it in the Orc's back, hearing with a morbid satisfaction the crack of its spinal cord. It collapsed instantly.

Adrienne looked up at her in relief which quickly turned to horror. "Behind you!" she screamed, even as Erin realized what must have caused her agitation. Erin whirled, meeting the eyes of the Orc bearing down upon her. Its sword came around in an arc, towards her left side. Erin tried to block it, but her own strength was too little to completely stop the Orc's momentum. The Orc blade sliced her side, sending a wave of pain and nausea shooting through her upper body. With a great effort Erin thrust his blade from her side, almost feeling the strength drain from her as blood spurted out. Suddenly a sword appeared between the Orc's ribs, disappearing just as fast. The Orc collapsed, revealing a tall, blond-haired man. He moved on without stopping, slaying as he went, crying "To me, Rohirrim! To me! Death!" Erin realized with a start who had just saved her: Eomer, newly christened King of the Mark. As if to confirm it, another soldier bearing the banner of the Rohirrim followed at his heels. He took it, planting it firmly in the ground at the top of the rise only meters from her.

"Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising

I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.

To hope's end I rode and to heart's breaking:

Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!"

He cried aloud these words, and Erin felt her heart leap with excitement, remembering those very lines from the book. Yet even in her joy, her strength began to fail her, draining away. She heard Adrienne's shout from beside her, but it seemed strangely far away, as the world tilted up to meet her.

-----AND now the fighting waxed furious on the fields of the Pelennor; and the din of arms rose upon high, with the crying of men and the neighing of horses. Horns were blown and trumpets were braying, and the _mumakil_ were bellowing as they were goaded to war. Under the south walls of the City the footmen of Gondor now drove against the legions of Morgul that were still gathered there in strength. But the horsemen rode eastwards to the succour of Eomer.

Not too soon came their aid to the Rohirrim; for fortune had turned against Eomer, and his fury had betrayed him. The great wrath of his onset had utterly overthrown the front of his enemies, and great wedges of his Riders had passed clear through the ranks of the Southrons, discomfiting their horsemen and riding their footmen to ruin. But wherever the _mumakil_ came there the horses would not go, but blenched and swerved away; and the great monsters were unfought, and stood like towers of defence, and the Haradrim rallied about them. And if the Rohirrim at their onset were thrice outnumbered by the Haradrim alone, soon their case became worse; for new strength came now streaming to the field out of Osgiliath. Some now hastened up behind the Rohirrim, others held westward to hold off the forces of Gondor and prevent their joining with Rohan.

It was even as the day thus began to turn against Gondor and their hope wavered that a new cry went up in the City, it being then mid-morning, and a great wind blowing, and the sun shining. In that clear air watchmen on the walls saw afar a new sight of fear, and their last hope left them.

For Anduin so flowed that from the City men could look down it lengthwise for some leagues. And looking thither they cried in dismay; for black against the glittering stream they beheld a fleet borne up on the wind.

"The Corsairs of Umbar!" men shouted. "The Corsairs are upon us! It is the last stroke of doom!" And some without order ran to the bells and tolled the alarm; and some blew the trumpets sounding the retreat. But the wind that sped the ships blew all their clamour away.

The Rohirrim indeed had no need of news or alarm. All too well they could see for themselves the black sails. For Eomer was now scarcely a mile from the Harlond, and a great press of his first foes was between him and the haven there, while new foes came swirling behind. Now he looked to the River, and hope died in his heart. But the hosts of Mordor were enheartened, and filled with a new lust and fury they came yelling to the onset.

Stern now was Eomer's mood, and his mind clear again. He let blow the horns to rally all men to his banner that could come thither; for he thought to make a great shield-wall at the last, and stand, and fight there on foot till all fell, and do deeds of song on the fields of Pelennor, though no man should be left in the West to remember the last King of the Mark.

And then wonder took him, and a great joy; and he cast his sword up in the sunlight and sang as he caught it. And all eyes followed his gaze, and behold! upon the foremost ship a great standard broke, and the wind displayed it as she turned towards the Harlond. There flowered a White Tree, and that was for Gondor; but Seven Stars were about it, and a high crown above it, the signs of Elendil that no lord had borne for years beyond count.

Thus came Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elessar, Isildur's heir, out of the Paths of the Dead, borne upon a wind from the Sea to the kingdom of Gondor; and the mirth of the Rohirrim was a torrent of laughter and a flashing of swords, and the joy and wonder of the City was a music of trumpets and a ringing of bells. But the hosts of Mordor were seized with bewilderment, and a great wizardry it seemed to them that their own ships should be filled with their foes; and a black dread fell on them, knowing that the tides of fate had turned against them and their doom was at hand.

And so at length Eomer and Aragorn met in the midst of the battle, and they leaned on their swords and looked on one another and were glad.

"Thus we meet again, though all the hosts of Mordor lay between us," said Aragorn. "Did I not say so at the Hornburg?"

"So you spoke," said Eomer, "but hope oft deceives, and I knew not then that you were a man foresighted. Yet twice blessed is help unlooked for, and never was a meeting of friends more joyful. Nor indeed more timely. You come none too soon, my friend. Much loss and sorrow has befallen us."

"Then let us avenge it, ere we speak of it!" said Aragorn, and they rode back to battle together.

-The Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

-----

SARAH and Kalva had long ago stopped shooting the giant crossbow. The Nazgul had retreated from the city; there was little point in attacking it, since the battle was on the Fields.

Sarah had watched with joy as the brightly armored Rohirrim swept into the fray. She could hear their singing, even this far away; it had been both beautiful and terrifying. She almost felt sorry for the Orcs, especially when the Rohirrim's ringing sword call had been answered by the charge of the Gondorians. Almost.

She had watched with dread as Theoden outdistanced his army, heedlessly charging ahead, consumed by the furious joy of battle. She had seen the Nazgul's attack coming, long before Theoden himself. She had shivered with horror as the Nazgul's death cry echoed from the stone of the city, reverberating through the streets like an avenging spirit. And yet, for the first time since the battle's beginning, the odds of victory actually looked about even.

Sarah noticed the clouds far to the South beginning to dissipate. The sight brought more hope to her heart; Sauron's power must be weakening, or perhaps the wind was sent by the Valar and had some power within it that drove back the interminable night. Surely it was a portent of good.

Then Kalva cried out beside her, pointing to the Anduin River where it came abreast of the city. A fleet of black-sailed ships appeared, moving quickly against the current, aided by a fair wind that had only just reached them. Kalva's face betrayed his despair. "The Corsairs have come!" he whispered. "We are lost!"

Sarah was just about to correct him, remembering from the books that it was only a deception, when the flagship cast out a dark flag with the symbol of Elendil glittering proudly in the new sun. The white tree reached out over the dark background, seven silver stars crowning it in shimmering beauty.

A great cry went up from the forces of good that still battled upon the field, as they recognized the emblem. The Enemy's army lost their confidence, and were steadily pushed back toward the river, where they found Narsil reforged, a bow of Lothlorien, and the axe of Gimli the dwarf waiting for them, not to mention an army of Dunedain and Gondorian warriors.

"The crossbow is of little use now!" Kalva called to her, starting off down the street. "Let us put Vilad's swords to work!" Sarah ran after him, down through the levels toward the main gate.

They had almost reached the battle itself when Sarah saw a familiar figure hobbling up the stone street towards her. "Adrienne!" she cried, racing forward, surprise and joy in her heart.

Suddenly she became aware of a bundle clutched in Adrienne's arms, and her gladness was replaced by worry. "Adrienne, what…" Sarah trailed off when she saw the face of the one Adrienne was carrying. "Erin!" she breathed, swiftly crossing the last few feet. "What happened?"

"We were fighting outside the walls. We both got hurt, but Erin collapsed. She got her side cut open," Adrienne managed, out of breath.

"Let's get her to the Houses of Healing! Kalva!" Sarah's heart contracted for a moment as he turned back toward her. "You go on! I'm going to get Erin to the Houses of Healing!"

Kalva nodded. "Do you need aid?" he called. Sarah shook her head, and he disappeared around a bend in the street.

Sarah grabbed Erin under the arms, and Adrienne took her feet. They had only gone a few meters before Adrienne's left leg gave out on her. She went down on one knee, a grimace of pain contorting her face. Sarah suddenly remembered Adrienne's earlier words.

"Adrienne, you shouldn't be carrying anyone! You're hurt too!" she exclaimed as she caught sight of the knife still embedded in her friend's ankle. "Here, I'll take Erin. You find something you can use as a crutch!"

Sarah leaned against the wall, her arms already screaming at the pain of carrying Erin. Erin herself wasn't terribly heavy, especially with such a loss of blood, but her weapons were bulky. Quickly Sarah placed Erin on the ground and began disarming her, both relieved and alarmed to find how light Erin was without the weapons. Luckily, the thoroughfare they were on had debris scattered all over it, and it didn't take Adrienne long to find a suitable piece of wood to lean on. She nodded when Sarah cast her a questioning glance. "Let's go. Erin needs help."

Sarah looked down at the limp form in her arms. Erin's face was distressingly pale, almost ghostlike. The sight made Sarah shiver. _Please, God, don't let her die_.

"MEGAN! Megan!" Lindir came up behind her and touched her shoulder gently. She looked up from the patient she was tending: a young man with a thigh wound. "Lindir?" she exclaimed, immediately noting the worried look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"I have just finished tending to two of your friends!" he answered.

"Who?" Megan asked, finishing the bandage and rising from the floor. Kavila rose as well, eyes wide with concern.

"Erin—she was unconscious, a sword cut on her left side—and Adrienne. Sarah helped bring them in. She is sitting with them."

"Erin's unconscious!" Kavila exclaimed.

"Yes, yes…come, this way!" Lindir disappeared through the doorway. Megan and Kavila followed as quickly as they could, sharing looks of concern.

"How did you know they were our friends?" Megan called to Lindir. Since before the battle had begun, she and Kavila had been separated from their friends. Megan wondered what had happened to Erin and Adrienne for them to be close enough to the fighting to get hurt.

"They asked to see you!" Lindir answered briefly as he waited for two healers carrying a wounded man to pass by. He crossed another hallway and ducked through a doorway.

Inside along the back wall, Megan found Erin and Adrienne comfortably situated on cots. Sarah sat between them, protectively clutching Erin's limp hand.

"Oh my god what happened?" Kavila exclaimed, rushing to the side of Erin's cot.

"Erin found the battle," Adrienne quipped.

"You obviously did, too," Megan said, giving Adrienne's bandaged leg a pointed glance.

Kavila shook her head, exasperated. "Go back a little farther. I haven't seen you guys since before the battle! What happened to the crossbows, and Vilad and Kalva?"

Adrienne's gaze narrowed a little at the mention of Vilad and the crossbows. It was Sarah who spoke: "Kalva and I took one crossbow, and Adrienne and Vilad took the other one. Theirs was destroyed."

"Destroyed?" Kavila said incredulously.

"We hit one Nazgul, though! Don't think we killed it, but it didn't come back," Adrienne protested. "Then they figured us out and one of the Nazgul basically...tore it apart."

"You hit a Nazgul?" Kavila all but screamed, drawing attention from the other patients in the room. "And then it tore the crossbow apart?"

"Well, a different Nazgul, but yeah, that's about right." Adrienne said. Kavila was speechless with a mixture of anger and exasperation.

"You know, making an attempt to keep yourself healthy is a _good_ thing!" she finally managed. Adrienne just laughed.

Megan put a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm Kavila down. She didn't particularly enjoy the stares they were getting. It was weird enough for them to be women wielding swords; they didn't need Kavila drawing more attention. "What happened to the other crossbow?" she asked.

"It survived," Sarah replied. "We hit two Ringwraiths, but none of them came after us. They were called away when the Witch-King was killed."

"Where's Kalva then?" Kavila asked, not quite innocently.

Sarah got a distinctly distressed look on her face. "He went down to the battle. I was going to go with him, but then I met Adrienne and Erin…" she trailed off, half-rising and reaching for her sword, which she had unbuckled and leaned against the wall behind her. "I ought to go down now and find him, since they're here."

"Sarah, I'm sure he can take care of himself," Adrienne put a hand on Sarah's arm, gently restraining her. "He's got a sword, and he knows how to use it."

"He's a bowmaker, not a swordmaster!" Sarah retorted. "Besides, I'm sure he could use someone guarding his back."

"You may not be the best candidate for that," Megan said in a teasing voice. "He needs to be able to concentrate on the battle!" Sarah's cheeks colored at Megan's meaning.

"Do I detect a blush!" Kavila covered her mouth in an exaggerated motion of surprise. Adrienne and Megan giggled madly as Sarah's gaze dropped to the floor.

"You're in love!" Adrienne managed, immediately collapsing once more in laughter.

"Maybe, maybe not!" Sarah retorted in a barely audible voice, expression torn between a pout and a laugh.

Suddenly Adrienne changed the subject. Talking about Kalva had reminded Adrienne of her own crossbow partner. "Megan and Kavila, have either of you seen Vilad?"

"No…" Kavila replied, looking to Megan, who shook her head.

"Should we have?" Megan asked.

"He's here somewhere…" Adrienne's brow creased with worry. "When the crossbow was destroyed, a piece of it fell on his leg. It looked pretty bad when they brought him in here. I went down to the battle once he was inside, so I don't know what's happened to him."

"Want me to see if I can find him?" Megan asked.

Adrienne nodded. "I was thinking maybe we could move into his room. Free up some space for more patients."

Megan smiled. "I'll see if I can find him."

THE hallways were crowded with the wounded continuously being brought in and healers frantically rushing from room to room. Megan passed a few cloth-wrapped bodies being carried out as she went from door to door peering into each room. She repressed a shiver, especially after seeing one go by that looked about the same size as one of her friends, much smaller than the average Gondorian.

Half an hour passed; she had checked all the rooms for those requiring care of a few days or less, where multiple patients were housed in each room. _Vilad's wound must be serious if they're keeping him in a private room_, Megan thought to herself, pushing down the fear that had arisen when she had found no sign of him in the temporary wards.

Once Megan had narrowed the search to the private rooms, it didn't take long to find Vilad. A healer was with him when she entered, re-bandaging his wound. Megan caught a brief glimpse of it and winced in imagined pain. Serious indeed; Megan wondered just how heavy that beam had been.

"Yes?" the healer said when he was finished, in a voice both irritable and tired.

"I'm a friend of his," Megan said, gesturing to Vilad. "I heard he was here."

The healer nodded and went back to work. "Yes, he is here, and will be for some weeks. This leg will take time to mend."

Megan didn't say anything for a moment, stricken by the paleness of Vilad's face and the contrast it made with his dark hair. He had lost a lot of blood to look like that.

Megan cleared her throat, remembering Adrienne's request. "Sir, there are two more patients here, also friends of his. Could they be moved in here with him?"

"As long as you can find another to aid you. I am tired and have many to tend," the healer replied gruffly.

"Thank you, sir! I'll take care of it!" Megan said. The man nodded as he passed her and left, closing the door behind him. Megan cast one last glance at Vilad, still lost in the mists of unconsciousness. Then she hurried out to find her friends.

-----HARD fighting and long labour they had still; for the Southrons were bold men and grim, and fierce in despair; and the Easterlings were strong and war-hardened and asked for no quarter. And so in this place and that, by burned homestead or barn, upon hillock or mound, under wall or on field, still they gathered and rallied and fought until the day wore away.

Then the Sun went at last behind Mindolluin and filled all the sky with a great burning, so that the hills and the mountains were dyed as with blood; fire glowed in the River, and the grass of the Pelennor lay red in the nightfall. And in that hour the great battle of the field of Gondor was over; and not one living foe was left within the circuit of the Rammas. All were slain save those who fled to die, or to drown in the red foam of the River. Few ever came eastward to Morgul or to Mordor; and to the land of the Haradrim came only a tale from far off: a rumour of the wrath and terror of Gondor.

-The Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

-----

BY nightfall all five girls were ensconced in Vilad's room. The swordmaster had woken twice, and both times either Megan or Kavila had tended him. Erin had also come awake, although she was still too weak to leave her bed. Kalva had not returned, and Sarah was growing more worried by the hour. Several times her friends had restrained her from going to search the Houses of Healing for him, since she had convinced herself that he would have come back by now if he were not wounded. She sat in the corner now, lost in her thoughts, unresponsive to her friends' attempts to engage her in conversation.

Suddenly the door creaked open. All looked up, expecting to see a healer bringing a fresh cup of broth or new bandages. Instead, Kalva's sweat and dirt-stained face peeked through, relief immediately showing at having found the girls.

For a single moment, Sarah's heart stopped as an immense wave of relief washed over her. Kalva had returned, and from the look of it he was unhurt. She knew not what deities had granted her this boon, but she thanked them fervently for it as she ran wordlessly to him and threw herself into his arms.

A dazzling smile broke across Kalva's face as he returned the hug. She drew back from him for a few moments, searching his body for injuries, and nearly sobbed with relief to find none. Kalva took her into his arms again with a soft chuckle.

"I was worried when you didn't come back," Sarah whispered.

"That's one way to put it," Erin said. "She's hardly spoken a word for hours!"

Sarah blushed as Kalva laughed again. He quickly sobered, however, when he saw that there were three bedridden forms.

"What happened?" he asked as his eyes passed over them, and Erin and Adrienne explained once again. Kalva's face was grave as he regarded the unconscious Vilad. "I've never seen him injured," he said. "What have the healers said?"

"It will be weeks before he can walk, even with a crutch," Adrienne answered with a grimace. Sarah understood; weeks confined to bed would be excruciating.

"And you two?" he nodded toward Adrienne and Erin.

"At least two days of bed for me," said Adrienne with clear resentment. "Then I can use a crutch."

"A couple days for me, too," Erin replied. "My biggest problem is weakness from blood loss."

Adrienne glared at her, but then her eyes widened in sudden realization. "I'm going to miss the Battle of the Black Gates!"

"I don't think any of us are going to make that," Sarah said.

"I wouldn't be so sure!" Erin replied indignantly. "I for one don't plan on missing such a historic moment!"

"What battle do you speak of!" Kalva asked. All five girls stared at him for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Kalva looked to Sarah, who tried not to flinch. She hadn't planned on revealing to her friends that she had told Kalva, not so soon. But some of her friends were noticing Kalva's gaze, and Sarah decided it was time to speak up. "You remember those books I told you about…" she started, bracing herself.

"You _told_ him?" came the expected rebuke from Erin and Adrienne. Sarah nodded a little guiltily.

"Well? Do you believe us?" Erin asked Kalva. He nodded hesitantly. Before he could continue, the expectant silence was broken by a commotion outside the door: deep voices and the sound of many booted feet passing by.

"I wonder what that is," Adrienne said. Megan rose and opened the door, peeking out cautiously, prepared to offer her help to the passing healers. Instead, she saw Gandalf hurry by in a flash of white robes.

"Gandalf!" she exclaimed, unthinking in her astonishment. She hadn't expected to see him here! Then it occurred to her that he must have come to tend to the three who had been felled in battle: Eowyn, Merry, and Faramir.

Gandalf turned with a puzzled look that soon became a smile. Megan realized she was getting strange looks from some of the other healers following him, and she bowed her head awkwardly. "My lord—"

Gandalf's smile grew. "Oh come, Megan, you know you need not use titles with me. Tell me, how fare your friends?"

Megan nodded back toward the room. "Erin, Adrienne, and Vilad were hurt, but it's not too serious. They'll recover." She didn't want to worry Gandalf, nor keep him from those who needed him more.

Gandalf sighed with relief. "Good. That lightens my heart. But now, I must attend to graver matters. Three have been felled by the craft of the Witch-King, and I must do what I can for them."

Megan nodded in understanding. "Eowyn, Merry, and Faramir."

Gandalf sighed. "Yes. I must go to them. Farewell, for now." He was about to continue on his way when Erin's voice came, calling his name.

The wizard stepped just inside the door. "Yes?"

"The hands of the king are the hands of a healer," she said, her gaze meeting his intensely. Gandalf held it for several moments, his brow creased in thought. Then he nodded and stepped back into the hallway, disappearing down the corridor.

The moment the door was closed Adrienne burst out. "You stole Ioreth's lines!"

"Yeah, I know. I'm hoping Gandalf will listen to them and respond sooner," Erin answered.

"What was that all about?" Kavila asked.

"It has to do with the books. You remember the title of the third book?" Erin asked, and Kavila nodded. "Well, the person that title refers to is the one who will heal Eowyn, Merry, and Faramir."

"The king…" Kalva said suddenly. "That is who you refer to, is it not?"

"Yes, that is," Erin said, somewhat guardedly.

"But there is no king…" Kalva continued.

"Not yet. You'll see, come morning," Erin told him. She cast a sad look at Adrienne. "That part was supposed to be in the Extended Edition of the movie. We'll never see that, now."

"The Extended Edition? Oh, I know," Adrienne said. "It sucks, doesn't it?"

"Sucks?" Kalva's expression was one of utter confusion.

All five girls shared a long laugh. "Hm…" Erin started, trying to think of a way to explain this bit of modern lingo. "Well, when a situation doesn't turn out the way you'd like it to, or something unfortunate happens, you say it 'sucks'."

"Like being stuck in bed recovering from a wound that means I won't be able to see the Battle of the Black Gates." Adrienne added sullenly. "Which I refuse to miss, by the way!"

"Wait a second, was that the last battle?" Kavila asked.

"The one at the big black gates? Yep!" Erin answered with a grin as Kavila glowered.

"I wouldn't _want_ to go to that battle!" Kavila said rather defensively. "There were all those horrible, freaky Orcs, and big, scary Trolls, and Nazguls! _Lots_ of Nazguls!" She shuddered.

The mood immediately sobered. "I definitely have a new respect for them now," Adrienne said rather quietly.

Erin nodded her agreement. "I didn't get as close to them as you, but I saw the Witch-King when he was helping them break down the Gate." She shuddered. "God, that Black Speech is horrible."

An anxious, ominous silence descended upon them. For a long time each wandered in their own thoughts until sleep claimed them one by one.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

AT LAST Faramir and Eowyn and Meriadoc were laid in beds in the Houses of Healing; and there they were tended well. For though all lore was in these latter days fallen from its fullness of old, the leechcraft of Gondor was still wise. But now their art and knowledge were baffled; for there were many sick of a malady that would not be healed; and they called it the Black Shadow, for it came from the Nazgul. And it seemed to the tenders of the sick that on the Halfling and on the Lady of Rohan this malady lay heavily. But Faramir burned with a fever that would not abate.

Gandalf went from one to the other full of care, and he was told all that the watchers could hear. And so the day passed, while the great battle outside went on with shifting hopes and strange tidings; and still Gandalf waited and watched and did not go forth.

Then an old wife, Ioreth, looking on the fair face of Faramir, wept, for all the people loved him. And she said: "Alas! if he should die. Would that there were kings in Gondor, as there were once upon a time! For it is said in old lore: _The hands of a king are the hands of a healer_. And so the rightful king could ever be known."

And Gandalf, who stood by, said: "Men may long remember your words, Ioreth! For there is hope in them. Maybe a king has indeed returned to Gondor; or have you not heard the strange tidings that have come to the City?"

Then Gandalf went out in haste, and already the fire in the sky was burning out, while ash-grey evening crept over the fields.

The Prince Imrahil and Eomer of Rohan passed through the City and mounted to the Citadel; and they came seeking the Steward. But they found his chair empty, and before the dais lay Theoden King of the Mark upon a bed of state.

And Eomer said: "Where is the Lady Eowyn, my sister; for surely she should be lying beside the king, and in no less honour?"

And Imrahil said: "But the Lady Eowyn was yet living when they bore her hither. Did you not know?"

Then hope unlooked for came suddenly to Eomer's heart, and he went swiftly from the hall; and the Prince followed him. And there came Gandalf on foot and with him one cloaked in grey; and they met before the doors of the Houses of Healing.

And Imrahil said: "So victory is shorn of gladness, and it is bitter bought, if both Gondor and Rohan are in one day bereft of their lords. Eomer rules the Rohirrim. Who shall rule the City meanwhile? Shall we not send now for the Lord Aragorn?"

And the cloaked man spoke and said: "He is come." And they saw that it was Aragorn, wrapped in the grey cloak of Lorien.

Then Gandalf said: "Let us not stay at the door, for the time is urgent. For it is only in the coming of Aragorn that any hope remains for the sick that lie in the House."

Aragorn went first to Faramir, and then to the Lady Eowyn, and last to Merry. Then he called to Ioreth: "Have you _athelas_? It is also called _kingsfoil_, and maybe you know it by that name."

"Oh that!" said Ioreth. "No, we have none of it, I am sure. Why, I have never heard that it had any great virtue; and indeed I have often said to my sisters when we came upon it growing in the woods: 'kingsfoil', I said, 'tis a strange name, and I wonder why 'tis called so; for if I were a king, I would have plants more bright in my garden.'"

"If you love the Lord Faramir, run as quick as your tongue and get me kingsfoil, if there is a leaf in the City," said Aragorn.

"And if not," said Gandalf. "I will ride to Lossarnach with Ioreth behind me, and Shadowfax shall show her the meaning of haste."

Now Aragorn knelt beside Faramir, and held a hand upon his brow. At last Bergil came running in, and he bore six leaves in a cloth. "It is kingsfoil, sir," he said; "but not fresh, I fear. I hope it will serve, sir?" Then looking at Faramir he burst into tears.

But Aragorn smiled. "It will serve." Then taking two leaves, he laid them on his hands and breathed on them, and then he crushed them, and straightway a living freshness filled the room. And then he cast the leaves into the bowls of steaming water that were brought to him, and his eyes smiled as he held a bowl before Faramir's face.

Suddenly Faramir stirred, and he opened his eyes. "My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?"

Aragorn came to Eowyn, and he stooped and looked in her face, and he bent and kissed her on the brow. Once more Aragorn bruised two leaves of _athelas_ and cast them into steaming water; and he laved her brow with it, and her right arm lying cold and nerveless on the coverlet.

Then he laid her hand in Eomer's and stepped away. "Call her!" he said, and he passed silently from the chamber.

"Eowyn, Eowyn!" cried Eomer. But she opened her eyes and said: "Eomer! What joy is this? For they said that you were slain. Nay, but that was only the dark voices in my dream. How long have I been dreaming?"

"Not long, my sister," said Eomer. "But think no more on it!"

Gandalf and Pippin came to Merry's room, and there they found Aragorn standing by the bed. Then Aragorn laid his hand on Merry's head, and called him by name. And when the fragrance of _athelas_ stole through the room, suddenly Merry awoke, and he said:

"I am hungry. What is the time?"

"Past supper-time now," said Pippin. "though I daresay I could bring you something, if they will let me."

"They will indeed," said Gandalf. "And anything else that this Rider of Rohan may desire, if it can be found in Minas Tirith, where his name is in honour."

Aragorn and Gandalf went now to the Warden of the Houses of Healing, and they counselled him. At the doors of the Houses many were already gathered to see Aragorn; and when at last he had supped, men came and prayed that he would heal their kinsmen or their friends whose lives were in peril through hurt or wound, or who lay under the Black Shadow. And Aragorn arose and went out, and he sent for the sons of Elrond, and together they laboured far into the night.

-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

ALL BUT Erin were jolted awake a few hours later by a quick, though soft, knock. "Enter," Kalva called out as the girls each sat up, rubbing their eyes and clearing their throats. Sarah shook Erin awake, saying, "We've got a visitor."

"More than one visitor, actually," Gandalf said as he stepped through the door behind another tall, cloaked figure. "Is that acceptable?"

"Of course, my lord," Kalva said, moving to light some lamps. Erin rubbed her eyes wearily, trying to get them to water a little. She had been deeply asleep, as usual; back home she often didn't even hear the fire alarm if it went off accidentally.

All thoughts of her disturbed rest fled from Erin's mind as the cloaked man drew back his hood. She knew immediately who he was. Everything about him screamed it: his shoulder-length hair that looked as though it had not felt a comb for a very long time, the grey cloak that shimmered and waved gently in the breeze from the window, the piercing eyes that seemed to know your every thought, the regal posture that spoke command, and most of all the green stone worn at his breast. "My lord Elessar," she said in a slightly trembling voice still hoarse with sleep, earning sharp looks from both he and Gandalf.

"You know the Elvish tongue?" Gandalf exclaimed at the same moment that Aragorn said, "You know of me?"

Erin chose to answer Aragorn's question first. "I have heard and read much of you, my lord." She smiled a little. "I must admit, the descriptions did not do you justice."

"He's already got a sweetheart, Erin!" Adrienne teased her from across the room.

"What…I wasn't…I so did not…" Erin spluttered, blushing furiously at Adrienne's implications.

Adrienne laughed. "As my friend Erin so tactfully stated," she said, earning a glare from Erin, "you are a bit of a legend to us. It is an honor to meet you, my lord Aragorn."

Aragorn frowned a little. "A legend? Are you travelers from the North, perhaps?"

Adrienne cast a questioning glance at Gandalf, who nodded slightly. Aragorn saw the exchange, but said nothing. "Um, well, not really." Adrienne said, finding herself suddenly at a loss as to how to continue.

"We're from a completely different world," Erin said simply.

"The Undying Lands?" Aragorn asked.

Erin grimaced a little in frustration. "Sort of, but our world is not on Arda. In our world, the tales of Middle Earth and the Undying Lands and all the others are thought of as fiction. The man who wrote about them, J.R.R. Tolkien, was thought to have made them all up. We didn't know they were real until we arrived here."

"How did you come here, then?" Aragorn still seemed confused.

"We're not sure," Adrienne said.

"'Twas the work of the Valar themselves," Gandalf answered in a reverent voice. "I heard their Song when the girls appeared."

Aragorn bowed his head. "They have not yet deserted us, then. 'Tis a ray of hope in these dark times."

Erin, Adrienne, and Megan too seemed similarly awed by Gandalf's revelation. Kavila, however, was quite lost. "Who are the Valar?" she asked.

Before either Gandalf or Aragorn could attempt to explain, Erin spoke. "They're some of the gods of this world, Arda. At the highest point there is Eru, Iluvatar, who is like God or Allah. Then there's the Valar, who were created by Eru. And next there are the Maiar, who are similar to but less powerful than the Valar."

Kavila nodded. She still didn't seem to have fully comprehended it, but she had the general idea. "You seem to know much of Arda," Aragorn said.

Erin bowed her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. "Yes, there are some very detailed and informative books in our world that tell of Arda's history. That's how we know about you, and how we knew about the Battle of the Pelennor Fields."

"You knew how it would end?" Aragorn asked.

"We knew how it ended in the books. We did not know if that was the way it would end here," Erin answered cautiously.

Aragorn nodded a little, pondering her words. "Come," he said finally. "Though it seems no introductions are needed on my part, I still do not know your names."

Adrienne introduced herself quickly, and then pointed to her friends. "This is Megan. She hasn't said anything yet, but even if she had, you probably wouldn't have heard it because her voice is so soft. She is a good healer though…I bet the two of you can become good friends. This is Sarah, and that's Kalva. They're madly in love, but won't admit it. Erin's the one who's been doing all the talking. She's the resident Middle-Earth expert among us. This is Kavila. She's absolutely terrified of anything that's longer than a kitchen knife, which is why she joined Megan as a healer." Aragorn smiled mischievously, drawing Anduril partway out of its sheath. Kavila's eyes went wide.

"Don't you dare draw that thing in here!" she shrieked. "I don't care if you know how to use it, it can still poke somebody's eye out!" Everyone but Kavila shared a long laugh, while she glowered at each of them in turn.

"And this must be Vilad the swordmaster." Aragorn said, glancing at the single unconscious form. "Gandalf has told me your names and deeds, but I had no faces to match them to." He moved to Vilad's bedside, removing the blankets and examining his wounded leg.

"There's nothing you can do, my lord," Kavila said softly. "The healers have set and bandaged it. All that's left is waiting for it to heal."

"Perhaps I might lessen that wait," Aragorn answered as he removed the bandage, probing the wound. "'Tis the least reward I might give for such valor."

This time Erin spoke. "He would want you to save your strength for those who need it more, my lord." Aragorn looked up as she continued. "I am sure there are others more grievously hurt. You should go to them. Perhaps there will be time for talk later."

Aragorn rose with a sad smile. "Perhaps. Farewell, then. May we meet again." He and Gandalf turned and approached the door amid a chorus of goodbyes. As Aragorn was turning the handle Erin added, "Namarië."

Aragorn smiled, and Gandalf gave her a look that plainly promised a later discussion. Erin just grinned back as the door shut behind them.

"You were _so_ flirting," Adrienne giggled.

"Was not!" Erin protested, laying back on her cot. "Somebody turn out the lights, please." Kalva obligingly rose and blew out the lamps, and the room's inhabitants sank back into sleep.

PRINCE Imrahil sent for Eomer; and he went down with him from the City, and they came to the tents of Aragorn that were set up on the field. And there they took counsel together with Gandalf and Aragorn and the sons of Elrond.

"My lords," said Gandalf, "listen to the words of the Steward of Gondor before he died: _You may triumph on the fields of the Pelennor for a day, but against the Power that has now arisen there is no victory_. I do not bid you despair, but to ponder the truth in these words.

"The Stones of Seeing do not lie, and not even the Lord of Barad-dur can make them do so. It cannot be doubted that when Denethor saw great forces arrayed against him in Mordor, and more still being gathered, he saw that which truly is.

"Hardly has our strength sufficed to beat off the first great assault. The next will be greater. Victory cannot be achieved by arms, whether you sit here to endure siege after siege, or march out to be overwhelmed beyond the River. I still hope for victory, but not by arms. For into the midst of all these policies comes the Ring of Power, the foundation of Barad-dur, and the hope of Sauron.

"Concerning this thing, you now all know enough for the understanding of our plight, and of Sauron's. If he regains it, your valour is vain, and his victory will be swift and complete: so complete that none can foresee the end of it while this world lasts. If it is destroyed, then he will fall; and his fall will be so low that none can foresee his arising ever again.

"Now Sauron knows all this, and he knows that this precious thing which he lost has been found again; but he does not yet know where it is. And therefore he is now in great doubt. For if we have found this thing, there are some among us with strength enough to wield it.

"But he is not yet sure," said Gandalf. "Indeed it can be used only by one master alone; and he will look for a time of strife, ere one of the great among us makes himself master and puts down the others.

"He is watching. His doubt will be growing, even as we speak here. His Eye is now straining towards us, blind almost to all else that is moving. So we must keep it. This, then, is my counsel. We have not the Ring. In wisdom or great folly it has been sent away to be destroyed, lest it destroy us. Without it we cannot by force defeat his force. But we must at all costs keep his Eye from his true peril.

"We must call out his hidden strength, so that he shall empty his land. We must march out to meet him at once. We must make ourselves the bait, though his jaws should close on us. He will take that bait, in hope and in greed, for he will think that in such rashness he sees the pride of the new Ringlord.

"We must walk open-eyed into that trap, with courage, but small hope for ourselves. For it may well prove that we ourselves shall perish utterly in a black battle far from the living lands. But this, I deem, is our duty. And better so than to perish nonetheless—as we surely shall, if we sit here—and know as we die that no new age shall be."

This then was the end of the debate of the lords: that they should set forth on the second morning from that day with seven thousands, if these might be found; and the great part of this force should be on foot, because of the evil lands into which they would go. And when they had reckoned up all their strength and taken thought for the journeys they should make and the roads they should choose, Imrahil suddenly laughed aloud.

"Surely," he cried, "This is the greatest jest in all the history of Gondor: that we should ride with seven thousands, scarce as many as the vanguard of its army in the days of its power, to assail the mountains and the impenetrable gate of the Black Land! If the Dark Lord knows so much as you say, Mithrandir, will he not rather smile than fear, and with his little finger crush us like a fly that tries to sting him?"

"No, he will try to trap the fly and take the sting," said Gandalf. "And there are names among us that are worth more than a thousand mail-clad knights apiece. No, he will not smile."

"Neither shall we," said Aragorn. "If this be jest, then it is too bitter for laugher." Then he drew Anduril and held it up glittering in the sun. "You shall not be sheathed until the last battle is fought," he said.

-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

BY NOON the next day, Erin felt ready to leave her bed. "I don't want to go far," she answered the protests of Kavila and Megan, who insisted she was not strong enough. "Just out to the gardens, to sit for awhile!"

"As long as one of us goes with you," Kavila countered, resigned to Erin's stubbornness. "But don't blame it on me when one of the senior healers starts chewing you out."

"When, not if? Such optimism, Kavila!" Erin laughed. "Come on, we need to lighten your mood!"

"My mood doesn't need any lightening." Kavila glowered as she moved toward the door. She pointedly ignored the incredulous look Erin gave her.

"Okay." Erin said in a long-suffering tone calculated to provoke Kavila's annoyance.

Kavila froze for a moment, her irritation plain. "Okay!" she mimicked. "You know, I don't _have_ to take you outside!"

"Love you too," Erin said in a teasing tone as she opened the door and stepped through it, waiting for Kavila to follow. Kavila heaved a sigh and moved into the corridor.

It took longer than Erin had expected to reach the gardens, and she was struggling hard to hide her exhaustion by the time they came into view. A stone bench, carved with dancing, nymph-like creatures, had been placed next to the path just outside of the entryway.

"Let's sit for a minute," Erin suggested, ignoring the knowing look Kavila gave her.

Erin allowed her eyes to wander once she was seated. Leaves the color of spring lightly dusted the gnarled branches of the low-canopied trees, sheltering wildflowers of every hue that glinted like gems strewn among the soft, dew-kissed grass. Stone paths crisscrossed by threads of green wound their way among the slender trees, and in the distance Erin could hear water trickling in a fountain.

This gem of beauty set in the midst of charred grey stone and grim faces was a balm to Erin's heart. For a moment, she felt a pure serenity fall over her and hope was restored; the King was come, and all was not darkness and destruction. This garden and the peace it brought were the things they as free people fought to preserve, and to know that places such as this existed made even the dark times bearable.

After several minutes of rest, Erin felt her strength returning. She and Kavila rose, continuing down the path until they reached the fountain Erin had heard earlier. Seeing the wonder in Kavila's eyes at the fountain's beauty, she suggested they rest a second time, and Kavila complied without even inquiring about her friend's health.

The carved figure in the fountain was a boy, head tilted back as he merrily played a flute. The water spouted from the end of the flute in a graceful arch. "It looks like Krishna," Kavila whispered. She suddenly realized that it had been days since she had properly paid homage to her gods.

Erin smiled at her friend. "Go ahead," she said. "I'll rest here for a while."

Kavila nodded her thanks and faced the fountain, sinking down into a position of prayer in the soft grass. Erin turned around and faced the path, giving her friend some privacy as she joined her on the green carpet. She reveled in the near silence, letting it suffuse her being and calm her heart, giving her a peace she had not known in a long, long time.

For many years, Erin had felt a deep longing in her heart that she could not satisfy. It was always present, though it wavered in intensity. When she was with her friends it was at its lowest and most faint, but certain remarks, lines in a book, or scenes in a movie triggered emotions she could not suppress.

It had probably always been there, hidden inside her, but it was her discovery of the fantasy genre, both literary and cinematic, that ignited its spark into a bright flame. There were swords, and magic, and whole new worlds to explore with new cultures, even new languages. The characters were noble and courageous, their causes inspiring. And every time she finished a series, she would find herself nearly in tears with a longing to be in that world, to meet those characters, to live and fight under those kings and queens.

As the months passed and she devoured more fantasy series, her longing grew until it intensified into a cynicism and disgust for the modern world that she could not dismiss. Others were deemed "throwbacks" from the '60s, or the '20s; she was a throwback from the 1200s, when men still wielded swords and bows and lived by codes of honor. For most of her friends, the books and movies were merely entertainment; an enthralling read, or a few hours of gripping action. For Erin, however, the hours afterward were sometimes almost unbearable, especially when a theme involved the clash of technology and modernity against the ancient codes and lifestyles she so dearly loved.

She had always felt out of place in her world; she had never really wanted the futures that everyone looked forward to, or anticipated her life after college. It all seemed so predictable, so lacking in excitement and adventure. She would go to college, get a job, buy a house, marry, perhaps have children, retire, grow old, and die, just like everyone else. She knew that wasn't completely true; there were joys to be had in one's career and one's adult life. She might have found a loving husband, found activities to keep her busy, found a career that she enjoyed. But still…it wasn't the same.

Here in Middle Earth, she finally felt at peace. There was so much to learn here: so much history, so many languages, so many customs and cultures. This was exactly what she had yearned for throughout all those long nights when she had lain awake, struggling with her feelings. It was a dream come true in every way, one that she still marveled at.

While listening to the soft silence, Erin became aware of a voice, carried to her ears upon a soft breeze. It was a man's voice, musical in its timbre; at first she had mistaken it for an instrument. The sound grew closer; whoever it was, they were coming along the path.

"Follow what may, great deeds are not lessened in worth," the mystery voice was saying. "Great deed was the riding of the Paths of the Dead, and great it shall remain, though none be left in Gondor to sing of it in the days that are to come."

With a surge of excitement Erin realized exactly whose conversation she was eavesdropping on. She decided against alerting Kavila, who was still deeply entranced in her prayer. Instead, with a secret smile, she waited for the owner of the voice to come into view on the path.

The next voice, gruff in contrast, only made her more certain. "And that may well befall, for the faces of Aragorn and Gandalf are grave. Much I wonder what counsels they are taking in the tents there below. For my part, I wish that with our victory the war was now over. Yet whatever is still to do, I hope to have a part in it, for the honor of the folk of the Lonely Mountain."

Today was the day of the council where they would decide to march on the Black Gates, Erin realized. She only had a few days to recover, then. She would have to be careful about rationing her strength. There was no way she would allow herself to be left behind when the army left for the Morannon.

"And I for the folk of the Great Wood," continued the musical voice. "and for the love of the Lord of the White Tree."

Though the voices now fell silent, Erin could hear heavy footsteps along the path. Kavila finally came out of her mental trance, turning to Erin. "There's someone coming!" she said.

"I know," Erin answered with a smile.

Kavila's eyes narrowed. "You know who it—" The rest of her sentence remained unsaid as the mysterious people finally came into view. Kavila's eyes widened, and she gasped in awe. Erin couldn't hide her grin as she turned back to face the path where four figures had stopped in startlement at seeing the two girls.

The two shortest figures, pipes in hand, walked in front of the others. One Erin recognized as Pippin, which meant the other hobbit was Meriadoc Brandybuck. Perhaps a foot taller was the booted, bearded dwarf, Gimli son of Gloin. Only one was of normal height, and Erin recognized him immediately. The pointed ears, golden hair, and bow made his identity rather obvious. She had hoped they would run into him eventually, if nothing else than to see Kavila's expression. After all, Legolas had always been Kavila's favorite character in the movie.

"Legolas?" Kavila blurted looking as though she were about to faint (or go into hysterics). Erin watched with amusement as one thin, Elvish eyebrow rose delicately.

Erin rose to her feet stiffly, elbowing Kavila not so subtly as she did. She bowed as well as she could, saying, "My Lords Legolas, Gimli, Merry, 'tis a pleasure to meet you." She directed her gaze at Pippin, smiling. "I am glad you fare well after the battle, Pippin."

"You know each other?" Merry exclaimed indignantly.

Erin grinned again. "We stayed in Gandalf's room for a time. He was the first person we met here in Minas Tirith."

"You stayed in Gandalf's lodgings?" Gimli asked. "Whatever prevented you from acquiring your own room?"

Erin groaned. "Long story…why don't we go back to my room? You can meet my friends then," she said. "Besides, I think I'm ready to go back."

"Are you weak?" Kavila asked worriedly. "Did you overexert yourself?"

"Of course I'm weak, I lost a lot of blood!" Erin retorted. "However, I don't think I've overexerted myself…yet."

"You are injured?" Pippin inquired.

"Yeah…Orc blade in my side," Erin grinned ruefully. "That's what you get when you go into a battle after only a few hours of practice with a sword. I killed an Orc though."

"You fought in the battle?" Merry seemed stunned.

"Yeah. Kavila was here in the Healing Houses," Erin replied, and then her eyes widened. "I'm sorry, I've been impolite; I forgot introductions! I'm Erin, and this is Kavila." Merry, Legolas, and Gimli bowed their heads in acknowledgement. "Now, let's get back to the room. That cot sounds awful nice right now."

Legolas, who had been silent throughout the conversation, fell into step beside Kavila. Erin noticed his footfalls were conspicuously silent and light as he walked upon the grass.

"Lady Kavila, you seemed to know me before. May I inquire as to how?" he asked.

Kavila said nothing for several moments, still trying to find her voice amid the awe and confusion his presence created. "Um…well…I'm not…"

"It's part of that long story I mentioned," Erin cut in, saving Kavila from her embarrassment. "If you can wait until we get back to the room, my friends can help us tell it."

It didn't take long for them to reach the room. Erin was desperate not to show her weakness too much in front of these legendary folk and refused to slow her pace even when her knees became shaky and Kavila cast her worried looks. Well, what looks she could spare from the golden Elf-prince walking beside her. Erin smiled a little; this would provide many hours of laughter and teasing.

As they came within the shade of the Healing Houses, and then to the room occupied by Erin and her friends, she grew more and more excited. She couldn't wait to see her friends' expressions when they realized who had come to visit them. Kavila knocked quickly, then turned the knob and opened the door. Erin stepped inside. "Look who I found in the gardens!"

ADRIENNE'S foot was no longer throbbing. After a day's rest and the tender, loving care of her friends, not to mention the wonderful effect of those herbs Megan had been feeding her, the pain had receded to a dull ache. And so, Adrienne had tried to convince Sarah, Kalva, and Megan to let her out of bed. She was extremely envious of Erin being allowed out-of-doors. Unfortunately, her friends were proving stubborn.

"I just want to get out of this goddamn bed!" Adrienne fumed. "Five minutes! I'll lean on one of you! I'll wait until you can find me a crutch!" All three continued to shake their heads. "You don't know how frustrating it is to be kept in a bed for this long!"

"Adrienne, it hasn't even been 24 hours. The healers said you should keep off that foot for days. Plural," Megan replied in a soft but firm voice.

Adrienne knew she was being unfair to take her frustrations out on her friends, but she couldn't help it. They needed an outlet, and since she couldn't get out of this room, her only targets were her friends. "I don't care what the goddamn healers said! I want out, now!" she said, half-raising her voice. "I've had injuries in color guard, pretty bad foot injuries, and they haven't kept me out of school!"

Her friends exchanged looks, and Adrienne's ire rose at the suggestion of pity in their eyes. She decided to unveil her most potent weapon: puppy eyes.

Adrienne widened her deep brown eyes, her lip quivering as if she were about to cry. She tilted her head slightly so that she was looking up at her friends, eyes watering. Altogether, she made a most pitiful picture.

Megan and Sarah averted their eyes, trying unsuccessfully to suppress smiles. Kalva met her gaze evenly, moving to her bedside. "Adrienne? Is something wrong?"

"I need to get out of this bed," Adrienne said in a quavering tone at exactly the same moment that Sarah replied, "No, there's nothing wrong. Adrienne's just pulling her puppy eyes on you. Don't give in, Kalva."

Adrienne almost ruined her carefully constructed image by glaring at Sarah. However, at that moment the door opened, and Erin stepped inside. "Look who I found in the gardens!" she exclaimed, stepping aside as the door opened wider.

Adrienne's eyes were drawn immediately to the only normal-sized member of the group. Gracefully pointed ears peeked from a long mane of spun gold, framing delicate features and startling green eyes that met hers for a moment as they took in the room. Adrienne was left with the uncomfortable feeling that her very thoughts had been read. There was only one person this could be.

The much shorter figure at Legolas' side was also easily recognizable; after all, there was only one dwarf in the city of Minas Tirith. Red-brown hair shrouded Gimli's face, braided into thick plaits that bounced against his robust, mail-covered chest as he walked.

Adrienne's gaze, however, quickly fell upon the two smallest figures. Nearly identical brown curls bounced about their ears and adorned their bare feet, though Pippin's hair was tinged with red. Both hobbits had brown eyes, which were trained on the floor ahead of them and the long, curved pipes protruding from their mouths. "Merry and Pippin!" Adrienne exclaimed with joy. She had always had a special place for these two hobbits, and that affection only grew as she saw them in person.

"You know us?" Merry asked just as Pippin said, "Good afternoon, Lady Adrienne." Merry gave Pippin an astonished look. "You know them?" _And you didn't tell me_? his gaze seemed to say.

"It's not like you've told me everything about _your_ travels," Pippin retorted. "And besides, with all the other things going on, I think I can be forgiven for a slip of mind!"

Adrienne giggled at the hobbits' bickering, even as the others favored them with fond glances.

"I am grieved that you were injured, Lady Adrienne," Pippin continued. "How did you come to the fighting?"

Adrienne sighed a little, catching Legolas, Gimli, and Merry's confused looks. "I guess I'll start at the beginning…" she said, and all four gathered about her.

KAVILA could not stop looking at Legolas. He was like a god out of some forgotten mythology, with his beautiful hair, piercing eyes, and those ears! They were so _cute_!

She gave herself a mental shake. _I barely know him! I shouldn't be thinking like this_! Out of the corner of her eye, Kavila caught an amused glance passing between Megan and Erin. _Damn, I'm never going to live this down_, she thought with a private grimace. _As long as they don't tease me in front of him…_ Kavila felt her cheeks burn at the mere thought of it and was glad of her dark skin.

At least Sarah couldn't say anything; if she did, Kavila could think of several embarrassing retorts to throw back. Sarah's affection for Kalva was becoming increasingly obvious, and increasingly frustrating to watch...well, some of the time. Mostly, it was just funny.

Adrienne, Erin, and Megan didn't seem to have found anyone to catch their eye yet, but Kavila sincerely hoped it would happen. It would be endlessly amusing to tease them about it, especially Erin, who wore her emotions openly upon her face. If she fell for someone, it would be easy to tell.

Not that Kavila had fallen for anyone herself. Legolas had always been her favorite character in the movies, and she admired him for many reasons. She wondered briefly if his archery skills were as good as his cinematic double's had been. She hoped so; that was one of the unique traits that had so fascinated her about the movie character.

Now she was meeting this idol in real life, in flesh and blood. It was almost too much to believe. No, she hadn't fallen for anyone, especially not him. She was just dealing with a serious case of hero worship.

Finally, Adrienne finished her tale. "You are brave women, Lady Adrienne and Lady Sarah, to face a Nazgul." Legolas said. Sarah hadn't heard, but Kavila noticed that Adrienne didn't correct the highborn title "Lady" and that Legolas cast Adrienne a warm smile. Anger rose in Kavila's heart. How dare Adrienne! She had no right….Kavila was about to say something when she realized the direction of her thoughts. That was enough to stop her tongue, so startled was she by the strength of her feelings. She was by nature a quiet, gentle creature. Certainly, she got angry sometimes, but never over something so petty as a well-deserved compliment.

"Thank you, my lord," Adrienne said. Legolas grasped her hand and smiled at her again. "I am Legolas," he said.

Kavila didn't get angry this time, although a part of her wanted to. She crushed it ruthlessly as Adrienne shifted on the bed, her face contorting in a grimace of pain. "Kavila, Megan, is it time for another dose of medicine?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"What time is it?" Kavila asked. Merry took out a small gold pocketwatch, and Adrienne almost squealed with glee. "You've got a pocketwatch! That is so cool!"

"'Tis half past one," he answered after a quick glance.

Megan thanked him and moved to the bed. "The medication should have worn off about one," she said.

"It definitely wore off!" Adrienne retorted. "Get me another dose!"

"Yes ma'am!" Megan answered and retrieved the different herbs and potions. Kavila began removing the bandage. "Be careful, though," Megan warned. "You know what they say about pain medication."

"What do they say?" Legolas asked.

It's dangerous if you take it for too long. You'll get addicted, and you'll have trouble stopping using it." Adrienne replied.

"I have never heard that," Legolas contended.

"Well, that's how it is in our world," Adrienne said. Suddenly she hissed in pain, and Kavila looked up from where she was changing the bandage on Adrienne's leg. "Sorry. I'll try to be gentle."

Legolas's hand came to rest upon Kavila's shoulder as he watched her work. "You are doing fine work," he complimented her as she cleaned and dressed the wound. "Did you have knowledge of healing before you came here?"

"Sort of…I was taking a class where we learned all the parts of the human body…the anatomy. It was anatomy class," Kavila said, cringing at how repetitive that sounded. "I wanted to be a doctor when I grew up."

"A doctor?" Legolas asked.

Kavila quickly realized her mistake. "That's our word for healers," she amended. "I got a lot of practice during the battle. Megan really knows what she's doing."

Legolas nodded and watched Megan for a while as she crushed and mixed herbs for her other two patients. Kavila felt keenly the loss of his gaze.

_What is happening to me!_ Kavila's mind was whirling in confusion. _I don't even _know_ him! All I know is the Legolas in the movie. I admire him, but I don't _know_ him. Besides, I could never actually marry him. My parents wouldn't let me. He's not Indian…he's not even _human!

Suddenly Kavila realized what she had been thinking. Had she really been debating _marriage_? Once again, Kavila was glad of her dark complexion: her mind was reeling and her face burning.

The bandaging finished, the room suddenly seemed far too confining and close and the air hot. "I'm going outside for awhile," Kavila said, hurriedly leaving, ignoring the various concerned and amused looks directed at her retreating back.

Kavila wasn't sure where she was going when she first ran out of the Houses of Healing. She couldn't go back in that room, not after her unexplained escape. Indeed, escape was exactly the word for it; she didn't think she could have stood another minute in that room…with Legolas. That retarded Elf, he was the problem! She was confused and ashamed, lost in a maze of conflicting hopes and desires that left her dizzy.

Suddenly she knew where to go: the inn. Legolas knew that they had stayed in an inn, but he didn't know which one, so he couldn't seek her out there. Not that Kavila had any reason to think he would seek her out; more likely it would be one of her friends. For some reason, that thought depressed her. She shook it off and headed toward the third level.

Minutes later Kavila slipped inside the back door of the inn, quickly making her way to the room. When she entered, she was overjoyed to find her backpack with all the maps sitting against the wall. She opened it and pulled out her physics book, her aversion to the subject forgotten. It was a bit of home, however distasteful the memories it summoned were.

Kavila flipped through pages she had nearly memorized during countless hours of studying until she came to the sections she had not yet learned. She bent her head and began to read.

Physics was, while often difficult to grasp, a study of rules: laws, equations, and formulas that could not be lightly disregarded. So unlike life, with its emotions and unexpected situations. There were no laws to guide the heart, no formulas or equations to identify the perfect husband, no matter what the horoscopes and love doctors said.

Kavila worked on her equations long enough to frustrate herself, effectively banishing the image of Legolas from her mind. Sometimes, no matter how many times she read through a passage or reworked a problem, she just couldn't wrap her mind around it. This was one of those times, and now there was no teacher around to explain it to her.

Kavila pushed back the chair with a growl, startled as it made a scraping sound against the floor instead of the soft rustle of carpet she had expected. With a jolt she snapped back to her surroundings. For a few minutes she had been back home at her desk, poring over the unfathomable text in a desperate attempt to prepare for an imminent test. But no; this tiny wooden table was not her desk, this cushionless seat was not her comfortable desk chair, and this hardwood floor was not her soft brown carpet. She was far from her home and its comforts.

Suddenly the homesickness crashed down on her. She missed it all so much: her family, her Indian friends, her dance classes…it all seemed so far away, so unreachable. Before she realized it, the tears were streaming down her cheeks.

Kavila stood up after several minutes of crying, quickly wiping the tears away. _Kavila, now is not the time for an emotional breakdown. You _will_ get home someday. Gandalf is a wizard; he can figure it out_. Amid all the chaos and constant work of the past five days, she had managed to push away all thoughts of home. Her fears and the presence of her friends had distracted her from the loneliness.

That was what she needed now: a distraction. The face of Legolas appeared once more in her mind's eye. _No, not that kind of a distraction_, she fumed at herself. _Damnit, Kavila, get yourself under control! You don't even _know_ him_!

Kavila realized with a small shock just how true that statement was. All she knew of him she had learned from the movies, but as Erin had so often reminded her, they deviated from the books—and from real life, it seemed. Erin would be a good source for that information…Erin, however, was currently in the room with Legolas. Kavila tried to remember what she knew: he was an elf, and thus immortal…but she had no idea how old he was. He was extremely good at archery and with knives. And hadn't Erin said he was a prince…the Prince of…of…Mirkwood, that was it! Mirkwood…Kavila wondered where in Middle Earth that was. Perhaps Legolas too was far from home.

Clearly, Kavila needed to know more. She needed a map, and….well, after that, she wasn't too sure. But she could start with the map.

Kavila glanced over the maps of the city Gandalf had drawn. The wizard had marked a bookstore not too far away on the third level; there would probably be some maps of Middle Earth there.

With a resigned sigh Kavila rose and replaced the maps. It seemed this infatuation of hers wasn't going anywhere for a while. She'd just have to deal with it the best she could.

IT WAS MUCH later that afternoon when Gandalf returned from the meeting upon the Pelennor. He went to the Healing Houses, checking quickly on Faramir and Eowyn and somewhat relieved to find Merry gone from his room. On his way to the gardens, where he supposed he would find the hobbit, he decided to look in on the girls.

He was surprised to find Gimli, Merry, and Pippin laughing and talking with the girls when he entered the room. "Well," he said from the doorway, drawing nine startled glances. "I was merely returning to inquire if you girls might care to meet the rest of the Fellowship. It seems I have been pre-empted."

Erin laughed. "Kavila and I ran into them in the gardens."

"In the gardens?" Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "You were out and about today?"

"Yes. I'm still pretty weak, but the fresh air was good. Kavila supported me." Erin said.

"Speaking of Kavila, where has she gone?" Gandalf asked.

Adrienne smirked. "She all but ran out of here at about two o' clock. Legolas left to look for her an hour ago."

Both of Gandalf's eyebrows shot skyward. "Legolas?"

Megan was snickering. "Yes…it seems she has taken a liking to him."

"And then Megan decided to play matchmaker and send Legolas after her," Erin added.

Gandalf's grin could not be restrained. Megan shook her head in mock resignation. "First Sarah, and now Kavila. Next thing it'll be Erin."

"Indeed!" Erin said sarcastically, even as Sarah sputtered her disagreement.

"Erin just has to remember not to make any moves on Aragorn," Adrienne said, ignoring the glare Erin sent her way. "I don't think Arwen would be happy."

By now, Gandalf had joined all the room's occupants in good-natured laughter.

"Pardon, but did Lady Adrienne just suggest that Aragorn is in love with the Elven Lady Arwen?" Pippin asked, clearly astonished.

Erin nodded. "Yep. Who knows, maybe if Sauron is defeated and Aragorn made king, there will be a wedding!"

"What is this talk of Aragorn and weddings?" came a musical voice from the doorway. Everyone looked up to see Legolas enter, Kavila clutching his right arm. Judging by her expression, she was not altogether happy to be led into the room on Legolas's arm. Immediately, amused glanced were traded throughout the room.

"Where did you find her?" Megan asked.

Legolas smiled at Kavila, even as she turned away in embarrassment. "I found her in a bookstore on the third level, reading one of those dreadful volumes on Elves that are written by men who know nothing of the subject."

Everyone in the room laughed. "What?" Kavila glared back. "I was just trying to see if Tolkien had it right!"

Erin shook her head in mock puzzlement. "Why not just ask Legolas yourself? I bet he knows the answers to all your questions, and can explain them far better than whatever book you were reading."

Kavila decided glaring was only going to make everyone else laugh harder and resigned herself to weeks of relentless teasing. Legolas led her towards the sole unoccupied chair, which she fell into with a weary sigh. Suddenly she realized Legolas had no seat. She rose to offer him her chair, only to find that his hands on her shoulders were preventing exactly such a move. When she looked up at him in protest, he smiled. "Stay. The lady should have the seat." Then he gracefully sank onto the floor just in front of the chair, the fluidity of his movements reminding Kavila of a cat. Her heart gave a leap when he leaned back into the support of the chair leg. _No_, she told herself firmly. _I will not give in. I will not set myself up for heartbreak. Nothing good can come of this. He would never return my feelings._

Adrienne watched the scene play out before her with a mixture of amusement and sadness. Even if Legolas shared Kavila's feelings and even if they found happiness together, it would be brief, and sorrow would come in the end greater than in any human relationship. Adrienne didn't think Kavila realized that Legolas would not become mortal like Arwen. Kavila would eventually die, and Legolas would live on. Even Erin didn't have an explanation for that, but it was the precedent that history had set.

Adrienne was jerked from her melancholy thoughts when Legolas spoke up with a serious topic. "Gandalf, pray tell what decision was made upon the fields?"

Everyone in the room fell silent, the girls knowing what would happen, and the others waiting expectantly to hear the wizard's reply. Gandalf smiled sadly. "A force of seven thousand will be gathered, to ride against the Black Gates."

A brief wave of relief went through Adrienne; all was going as the books described.

"Seven thousand?" Kalva exclaimed. "I know little of strategy, my lord, but that seems far too few."

"We do not ride for victory." Gandalf replied enigmatically. Erin spoke into the sudden silence.

"When are we leaving?" she asked, voicing Adrienne's sentiments. She was already impatient to be off. There had never really been any doubt in her mind that she would see the Battle of the Black Gates. She would see the fearsome Eye, the fiery Orodruin, the insurmountable Morannon, and she would watch them topple before the strength and determination of two brave halflings. She would stand with the Men of the West, with the King of Gondor, against the Enemy.

Gandalf looked surprised. "You five girls have done more than enough. You need place yourselves in no further danger, certainly not in the service of a land to which you owe no allegiance."

"We don't owe Middle Earth any pledge of allegiance, but we love it more than the country that does hold our oath," Adrienne retorted. "You might as well accept it, Gandalf. We're coming with you, even if you tie us up, stuff us in a sack, and beg the Valar themselves to take us back!"

But Gandalf shook his head. "Kavila, Megan, and Sarah may come if they choose, but you two will not. You cannot fight if you are unable to walk," he said, giving Adrienne's foot a pointed glance.

The two girls shared a desperate look. "Gandalf, no! We're coming, whether you like it or not! You know as well as we do how important this battle is! It's history in the making! You _can't_ keep us away!" Erin exclaimed, as she realized what Gandalf was about to do.

"I most certainly can," the wizard said in a stern voice. "You two are not fit for battle." Adrienne felt despair overwhelm her as Gandalf's next words fell, a deathblow to her dreams. "I forbid you to go."

He might have said more; if he did, Adrienne was too caught up in her disbelief, anger, and overall her crushing misery to hear it. For days she had been anticipating this battle, and now Gandalf had forbidden her to go because of a _leg injury_! She glanced at Erin, who was still depressed by Gandalf's pronouncement. Apparently Erin had resigned herself to their fate. _Not I_, thought Adrienne, as her anger rose, and her determination along with it. _I _will_ see this battle!_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

THE NEXT two days passed agonizingly slowly for Erin. Kavila had vehemently declined to go with the army to the Black Gates, but Sarah and Megan had decided to join them, much to Kalva's dismay. And so the two girls, along with Kalva, had spent the past two days preparing for the ride, practicing their swordwork and fitting their armor. Once he had learned of their decision Gandalf had invited them to ride at the head of the army with the Lords of the West, and the two girls had eagerly accepted, much to Kalva's chagrin. He was still highly uncomfortable with the idea of making friends with those whom he considered above his station. The girls had no sense of propriety, he had protested, and were much too heedless of rank. Sarah had responded that all of them, including Kalva, had earned their place at the head of the army; he more than any of them.

Erin had remained confined to bed or, when her strength permitted it, the gardens. She tried to get away to the gardens as often as she could; her friends' excitement when they returned from an armor fitting or a sword lesson was too much for her. She was depressed and jealous, knowing that they would ride to this historic battle and she would not. She knew she should be happy for them, since they had not yet gotten the chance to prove their valor in battle. She had already fought in a famous battle, and now it was their turn. Nonetheless, she couldn't help her bitterness.

Now it was a mere hour until the great army's departure, and Erin had to fight back tears as her friends prepared to leave. She was bitter, but she was also worried. Her friends were all she had in Middle Earth to remind her of her home, and she didn't want to lose any of them. Sitting here in Minas Tirith she was a helpless bystander, and could do nothing to protect her friends upon the battlefield.

But mostly her tears were due to a longing so deep and powerful that it was almost a physical pain. She had always hated sitting on the sidelines, forced to watch but unable to participate. When she played soccer in junior high, she had almost always played the entire game; the few times the coach called her off the field, she would reappear at his side moments later demanding to be substituted back into the game. It had always made her want to scream when a goal was scored against her team, and she was sitting on the sidelines unable to prevent it. She always wondered 'If I had been in there, could I have prevented that goal?' That was the feeling she was getting now.

Erin was distracted from her despairing thoughts by a heated argument between Kavila and the armored girls.

"Why? Why do you have to go? It's _dangerous_!" Kavila was saying. "There'll be Orcs and trolls and Nazguls! You might get _killed_!"

"That would be why we're wearing _armor_," said Megan with a smile.

"Armor won't help you against one of those trolls!" Kavila all but screamed. "You remember the cave troll in the first movie, with that spear? The only reason Frodo's armor helped him was because was made of that…that…sparkly white stuff!"

"Mithril?" Adrienne suggested helpfully.

"Yeah, that stuff!" Kavila said. "And yours isn't made of that stuff! Besides, armor won't help you very much if a Nazgul tries to bite off your head!"

"That why we've got helms and hauberks," Megan said in the same tone.

"Fine! If you want to go get yourselves killed, go right ahead! And when you're dead, I'll be sitting here safe saying 'I told you so!'" Kavila retorted.

"It's nice to know you care," Megan said as she and Sarah laughed and turned toward the door where Kalva was waiting.

"We've got to get going," Sarah said. "We're supposed to meet Gandalf at the stables now."

For a few uncomfortable seconds after Sarah's statement, no one said anything. What do you say to loved ones who are about to leave, whom you might never see again? Erin wondered. She finally spoke up.

"Goodbye, you guys," she said after a few deep breaths. "Fight well and keep safe."

"We'll be seeing you in a couple of weeks when you ride home victorious," Adrienne added.

"Aye," Vilad agreed from his bed. "Kalva and I taught you lasses well. Keep your wits about you, and you'll live to see the sunset."

"And when we come back, all three of you will be walking down to meet us," Sarah said. "Because you'll all be doing your best to heal up while we're gone, won't you?"

Erin nodded, while Adrienne laughed. "I just want out of this bed," she said.

Kavila looked at the three patients. "Have I given all of you your medication?" she asked. They nodded, displaying mugs of herb-flavored water. Kavila turned to Sarah and Megan. "I think I'll walk you guys down to the stables, then. Make sure you take that medicine!" she warned her charges.

Vilad dutifully drank his, while the other two girls nodded. Kavila and the others left, closing the door behind them.

"Man, I'm so jealous," Erin said, staring wistfully at the door. It was already an old topic, but she couldn't stand the empty silence after her friends were gone.

"I know," Adrienne agreed absently. She was staring intently at Vilad, whose eyes were already drooping closed under the seductive weight of the strong pain medication.

_Which reminds me, I ought to take mine_, Erin thought. She was beginning to reach for it when Adrienne called out "No! Don't take it!"

"Why?" Erin said. "It's starting to wear off. I need the next dose."

"It'll make you go to sleep." Adrienne replied. "I need you awake and alert."

"What for?" Erin asked. She was suddenly reminded of Adrienne's strange behavior over the past few days; her food trays had been more empty than usual, and she was often distracted or in a tired daze.

Adrienne finally tore her gaze from Vilad, who was now quite fast asleep. She turned a fierce, determined gaze to Erin. "We're leaving." she said.

"Leaving? Adrienne, neither of us is going anywhere, especially not you!" Erin said. Things began to come together in Erin's mind even as Adrienne began reaching under her cot. She pulled out a large cloth filled with food, a waterskin, and two decent tunics. She set all of it on the cot with a satisfied smile. "We're going to the Black Gates. In disguise."

"Like Eowyn!" Erin breathed, but she quickly reined in her enthusiasm. "Eowyn was not injured when she escaped with the Rohirrim. Neither of us is in any condition to walk all the way to the Black Gates, especially without pain medication!"

"Which is why we're going to join the cavalry," Adrienne replied calmly. "And as to the pain medication, I've got half a waterskin of it here, and if we each pour in our doses for today it ought to be mostly full."

"And I suppose the food is saved from your meals," Erin said with a sigh. "I thought you were eating too much."

"I took some from the cellars too…that's where I found the waterskin," Adrienne said.

"From the cellars! When?" Erin asked. She thought back over the past two days. She couldn't recall a time when Adrienne had been gone…

"I slipped out one night when everyone else was asleep," Adrienne said. "That's when I got the tunics, too."

"You've been planning this!" Erin said. "Since when?"

"Since Gandalf forbid us to go," Adrienne replied.

That reminded Erin. "We can't blatantly disobey him!" she exclaimed. "He's a powerful wizard, used to having his orders obeyed! What will he do when he finds out? I for one am enjoying life right now!"

"No you're not." Adrienne said, surprising Erin. "You're not enjoying life. You want nothing more than to be out there with that army. I'm offering you the chance. You can come with me if you want to, but whether you come or not I'm going."

"Someone has to keep your imagination in check," Erin sighed. "I'll go. But one more question: you mentioned cavalry. Where are we going to get the horses?"

"I've got it all planned out." Adrienne said. "First, we get dressed in these." She held up the tunics. "The leggings we've got now will do. We get armor from the armory, and then we head for the stables. When we show up dressed like this, ready for battle, they won't question giving us a couple spare horses."

"They'll know we're girls, or at the very least too young!" Erin exclaimed.

"We'll have helms and hauberks on," Adrienne retorted. "As well as cloaks. You'll have to take your glasses off though."

Erin shook her head in amazement. "You really have thought this through. One more problem, though. I have no idea how to get tack on a horse. None whatsoever. And very little riding experience."

"Don't worry, I'll help you," Adrienne said nonchalantly. "I took riding lessons for years, remember?" She picked up the crutch that Kalva had fashioned for her, looking expectantly at Erin.

Erin sighed and picked up the tunic, turning around quickly and dressing in it. She had to admit, it did feel good to have a clean shirt on. And she couldn't help the flutters of excitement she felt at the thought of their daring escape. Yet at the same time, she couldn't ignore the nagging voice in the back of her mind insisting that this was a really bad idea.

Turning back around, she gathered the other supplies that Adrienne had collected, emptying the pain medication into the waterskin. She and Adrienne each took one swallow of medication, which really wasn't enough to help much, but hopefully would get them through the initial escape.

Adrienne gave her an expectant look. "Let's go."

Erin rolled her eyes. "If we get caught, it was _your_ idea."

Adrienne grinned. "Absolutely!" Then she limped to the door and opened it, and the two girls stepped out of the room without a backward glance.

A HALF-HOUR later, two battle-dressed warriors stepped out of the armory. Each wore a full suit of mail, a leather hauberk and jerkin, and heavy boots. Aside from being rather short and thin, they looked perfectly normal…until one heard their distinctly feminine voices.

"Adrienne, we can still turn back now, you know," Erin said in a slightly panicked voice. The idea of defying a direct order from Gandalf made her sick with fear, even as butterflies danced within her stomach. "Go back in there, take all this off, go back to the room, and forget about it."

Adrienne gave her an exasperated look. "I'm going. I'm not forgetting about this battle. You can turn back if you want to, but it's your choice."

Erin sighed. "Do you seriously think I'm going to let you do this alone?" She laughed nervously, but suddenly paused. "Do you know how to get to the stables?"

"Yeah," Adrienne replied. "I heard Gandalf telling Sarah and Megan."

"All right." Erin took a deep breath as they started off. "Now, how the hell do you put tack on a horse?"

KAVILA walked slowly back to the Houses of Healing. It had been hard to say goodbye, but when Gandalf came to collect the others, she had been forced to bid her friends a final farewell. Well, hopefully not final. She had to believe they would come back; she didn't know if she could handle losing any of the people she had come to Middle Earth with.

For now she would go back to the room in the Houses and check on her patients. Ever since the healers had learned of Kavila and Megan's friendship with the three patients, they had allowed the two girls to take over the care of Erin, Adrienne, and Vilad…with supervision. In fact, Raliwen was due to come by as soon as the army had left this morning. Kavila smiled to herself; she enjoyed Raliwen's company.

Kavila reached the room with a sigh of relief. Once she had checked her friends, perhaps she could go to the gardens, or find Merry to talk to. She knew he was terribly disappointed at being forbidden to go, just as Erin and Adrienne had. She opened the door half-hoping to see six people sitting in the room instead of three.

There was only one person in the room.

Kavila stopped in her tracks, quickly deducing that her eyes were not playing tricks on her. Adrienne and Erin were not in the room.

Vilad was fast asleep, his cup of medicine empty. Erin's and Adrienne's were empty as well, but somehow Kavila didn't think their contents had been drunk. A cold current of dread ran through her veins.

Perhaps they had just gone out to the gardens to watch the army leave. _They wouldn't have drunk their medicine before they did that_, Kavila immediately thought. Nor would they have emptied the cup somewhere other than their mouths; they would have saved it until they returned from the wall.

Kavila stepped out of the room again, fighting the urge to run screaming down the hall or beat her head against the conveniently placed wall. _Don't panic, Kavi. Don't panic. Think. Where could they have gone? Think, Kavi_.

Her fragile concentration was broken by a voice just down the hall. "They left twenty minutes ago."

Kavila turned, surprised; she thought everyone had turned out to watch the army leave.

The hobbit Merry stood in his doorway, a young boy behind him. "I believe they were discussing what different pieces of armor a cavalryman would wear."

Kavila frowned. "Armor a cavalryman would wear…" Suddenly her eyes widened as an impossible notion occurred to her…implausible and foolish enough to be true. "Of course! Adrienne can't walk! She'd _have_ to ride!"

"Pardon?" Merry said.

"They've gone to join the army!" Kavila exclaimed. "Of all the retarded things…"

"The army! But I thought they were wounded…" Merry said.

"They are! That's why they're so retarded!" Kavila almost screamed. She took a deep breath. "Right. I have to stop them," she said in a much calmer voice. To her personal astonishment, her mind continued to function logically, though panic threatened to overwhelm it. "They'll go to the armory first, since they don't have any armor. That's where I'll have to catch them." She took a step, then stopped and raced back into the room. "I have to leave a note for Raliwen!" Half a minute later she reappeared, immediately taking off down the hall. "Thanks!" she called to Merry as she passed his doorway.

"You are most welcome," Merry said with a dazed look.

Kavila ran as fast as she could down the wide, deserted lane to the armory with a single thought in mind: stop Erin and Adrienne. She was already inside the empty building when she realized that she had passed two lone soldiers hurrying in the other direction. One of them had been limping, she recalled with a jolt. A quick scan of the armory revealed that some of the shelves had definitely been trifled with. Erin and Adrienne had been here.

But the armory hadn't provided everything they needed. To disguise themselves as cavalrymen, they would need horses. That meant they would head for the stables next.

Kavila turned and raced back out the door. Once outside, she realized she had absolutely no idea where the stables were. A few precious minutes were lost searching for someone who could provide her with directions, and then she was off for the stables. If luck was with her, Erin and Adrienne would still be there.

THE TREK to the stables was an ordeal. Adrienne had allowed only one swallow of medicated water per person, which had dulled the pain slightly. But Erin's left side still throbbed, and she had no idea how Adrienne could stand walking on her foot, which must have been infinitely more painful. Yet Adrienne too had taken only one swallow, trying to avoid dulling her senses with the sleep-inducing medication.

The pain wasn't Erin's only problem. Blood loss had been greater in her wound, and she was still recovering her strength. Her shallow reserves had been all but exhausted, and they weren't even on their horses yet.

During the journey to the stables, Adrienne gave her a crash course in preparing a horse for riding. Erin just hoped the stable hands wouldn't stand there and gawk while she fumbled with the tack; she had a feeling she would need Adrienne's help.

When they reached the stables, they found the stable boys gone, presumably to watch the spectacle upon the fields. All for the better, as far as Erin was concerned. Adrienne, however, was not so happy.

"We have no idea which horses are unowned!" she fumed, glaring at the long corridor of mostly empty stalls.

"Why don't we go to the back of the stable and take two of those?" Erin suggested. Adrienne looked doubtful; horse stealing was no doubt a serious crime.

Erin tried again. "Most of the cavalry members are going to be out there already. The horses here are probably ownerless."

Adrienne nodded slightly. They couldn't waste any more time. "Alright. You take the bay there, and I'll take the black one."

"Greda," Erin read aloud from a board on the bay's stall. She liked the name.

Adrienne glanced back and smiled a little. "Mine's Caelef," she said.

Erin wasn't paying much attention. Her horse (definitely a stallion, Erin noted), didn't seem to like her in his stall, which she was cautiously attempting to enter. It had retreated to the back wall of the stall, and Erin feared it might start making a commotion if she didn't do something. They couldn't afford to draw attention.

Thinking quickly, Erin began to speak in the most soothing voice she could muster. "Stille nu, stille nu, Greda. Man le trasta, Greda? Stille nu." She tried to touch its neck, patting and rubbing softly. The horse quieted and let her approach it.

After a few moments Erin backed out of the stall and into the corridor where Adrienne waited. "What was that?" Adrienne asked her as they moved toward the tack room in the back.

"Some Rohirric and Elvish, I think." Erin answered. "I'm not sure exactly what it means. In TTT Extended Aragorn used some of it to quiet Brego in that one scene."

Adrienne nodded a little. "You want to grab a saddle, a bridle, waterskins...we'll definitely want a tent…I'll carry that, you can take the rest of the saddlebags."

Erin just listened and followed Adrienne's directions as her friend selected tack and supplies. She was completely out of her depth. But Adrienne had once taken riding lessons, and she knew what she was doing…better than Erin, at least.

Once they began placing it on the horses, Erin was relieved to find that Greda accepted the burdens and her presence quite calmly. Adrienne had to help her fasten all the proper ties and attach the saddlebags, since Erin had little knowledge of knots either. She began to wish fervently that just once she had checked out one of those books on "useful knots" or "how to survive in the wilderness." Though never would she have dreamed at the time that such knowledge might come in handy.

At least Erin knew a little about riding. She had been on guided pony rides during vacations, which she knew was nothing like what they were about to experience, but had taught her some of the basic rein movements.

With more soothing words and pats Erin managed to get into the saddle. Adrienne was already mounted and halfway down the corridor. Her stallion seemed to be accepting her just fine.

"Have you got it?" Adrienne called back softly.

"Yeah, I think so," Erin replied, nudging Greda out of the stall. Now that the initial steps were over, he seemed eager to go beneath her, as if sensing some of her excitement. This was the kind of situation one read about in fantasy novels; yet here she was, living it. Her joy threatened to overwhelm her.

But no more thinking. Now was the time for action. Erin checked her watch: fifteen minutes to departure. She nodded once more to Adrienne, and they moved slowly out of the stables. As they left the stables and turned down the street, Erin thought she heard someone call their names, but she didn't look back. They were so close to freedom…nothing could stop them now.

Once on the open street they picked up speed, moving quickly down through the levels until they reached the Fields. No one questioned them as they rode out of the gates amid a press of other soldiers, though Erin was sure her heart was pounding loudly enough to alert anyone nearby, even over the sound of hooves on stone.

Then, finally, they were through the gate. Erin knew it was still early to rejoice, but she couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of triumph at having made it this far. It felt as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders; here, she was an anonymous soldier, upon whom no special tasks or responsibilities were laid.

As unobtrusively as they could manage, Erin and Adrienne slipped into the cavalry ranks of the men from the South. All were dressed in the common manner that Erin and Adrienne had adopted, rather than uniforms, though they bore banners to signify their homeland. The men directly in front of Erin and Adrienne, whom they had seemed to join, flew a red pennant with a scythe on it. Ahead of the common cavalry were the Gondorian riders, the Dunedain, and the Lords of the West. Behind Erin and Adrienne marched the infantry, flanked and followed by companies of mounted Rohirrim.

Erin shared a triumphant glance with Adrienne. Against all odds, they had done it; they had joined the ranks of the army headed for the Black Gates of Mordor. Suddenly Adrienne's smile turned to a grimace of pain. She untied the waterskin of pain medication and took a single swallow, then handed it to Erin.

Erin smiled her gratitude as she took a large gulp. Her side ached so much she wanted to cry, and riding had only worsened it. She didn't think the wound had reopened; it was stitched closed tightly, and she had been careful about it while putting on the armor and mounting Greda. She tried not to think what it would feel like after a full day of riding. At least Kavila had changed the bandage just an hour before.

Erin almost smiled as she imagined Kavila's reaction when she saw the two empty cots. She could hear Kavila screaming as she called them "retarded" and "stupid" and perhaps even some more creative terms. After all, if any situation could move Kavila to curse, this would be it. Who knew, she might even break some things. At least there weren't any precious artifacts in the room.

A sudden silence broke Erin from her musings; the army had fallen quiet. She looked up to see Aragorn standing tall in his stirrups, looking every inch the king. Anduril gleamed in his hand, reflecting the light of the morning sun.

"My fellow men," he began in a voice that carried surprisingly clearly across the field. "we depart this day on a brave errand: to assault the Black Gates of Mordor. You are a great host, not in number but in heart. Seven thousand, and each man worth two in courage alone. Seven thousand strong, we ride to battle against the Lord of Darkness himself." He thrust Anduril suddenly up toward the sky. "Three thousand years ago, this blade was wielded upon the slopes of Mount Doom in victory. So it shall be again! And when the Enemy is thrown down, then shall a new day arise, and your children and their children shall live in its light. With this thought, be strengthened! And with this strength, ride! Ride with the light of the White City behind you!"

A great cry went up from the men as the army surged forward, wheeling east company by company. Soldiers jostled for positions as the rhythm of marching feet and pounding hooves drowned out the army's calls. Erin was unable to hold back a grin as she and Adrienne joined the flow. The rumbling beat was music to her ears, a thunder that sang in her blood; there was a joy and excitement in being a part of this great effort which she had never before experienced. She found it intoxicating, taking deep breaths and reaching out with all her senses. The world had never seemed so bright and full of promise, the heat of the sun never so wonderfully warm upon her back.

Erin looked to the head of the army, where Lords Aragorn, Gandalf, Eomer, and Imrahil rode together in a line of shimmering metal and tall helms. Behind them were some of the lesser lords, and Sarah, Megan, and Kalva. Even as Erin watched, Megan threw back her head in laughter as Kalva helped Sarah manage her horse. Erin longed to ride openly with them, to share her feelings with her friends. At least Adrienne was here, even if they couldn't talk much for fear of being overheard and discovered. She shared a long look with Adrienne, seeing her own excitement mirrored in her friend's gaze.

Then Erin took a moment, shifting slightly in the saddle, and gazed back upon the White City. It gleamed in the morning sun, a single spire of silver against the dark backdrop of the mountains. Erin realized she had never seen it from this view; it was truly magnificent. She felt a swell of emotions rise up within her heart: a deep love for this land and its people, pride that she would be defending them, and an iron determination not to let this great city fall into darkness. When she faced the front of the army once more, she had to fight back tears.

KAVILA was just coming around the corner toward the stables when she saw two slim figures gallop down toward the next level. She recognized them immediately; even under the armor and cloak they were too thin to be warriors. Definitely Erin and Adrienne. She called their names frantically, but they either did not hear her or ignored her. Moments later they disappeared around a corner.

Kavila quickly made her decision. She would have to pursue them on horseback; by the time she reached the army on foot they would be lost in the crowd.

She raced into the stables, hoping fervently that there was someone here who knew how to saddle a horse. In her haste, she failed to see the person who was also rushing—out of the stables. They collided with a sharp crack and dual cries of pain.

Kavila looked up from her position on the floor to find two concerned boys each offering her a hand. She took both, brushing the straw off her clothes as she regained her wits. One of the boys pulled a third boy to his feet, the person whom Kavila had so thoughtlessly crashed into. All three were no more than ten or twelve years of age.

"I'm so sorry! Are you alright? Where are you hurt? Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Kavila exclaimed. One of the other boys, a tall dark-haired young man, cut her off with a laugh. "Don't worry, my lady, it's only Jarin. He's always clumsy."

Kavila belatedly realized she hadn't made any attempt to hide her gender. Right now, she figured that didn't really matter. "Did you just see two people ride out of this stable?" she asked quickly.

"Yes!" Jarin exclaimed indignantly. "They stole two horses and the tack, and some supplies! The thieves!"

"They've escaped from the Houses of Healing to join the army!" Kavila continued. "They aren't well enough to go! I have to catch up with them!"

All three boys grinned. "Escaped? Fugitives _and_ thieves! Of course we'll help you find them, my lady," the tall boy said. "Nival will saddle your horse. Jarin will get your supplies. If you'll come back here with me, I'll get you a proper uniform! I'm Tam," he added.

"A uniform? _Supplies_? I don't need those!" Kavila exclaimed. "All I need is the horse to get down there!"

"But how will you join the army dressed like that?" Tam said in a disapproving tone. "We've a few spare uniforms back here."

"I don't need a uniform!" Kavila insisted. "Erin and Adrienne didn't have them! They just had mail and helmets!"

Tam eyed her critically as he held up a suit of mail. "Very well, if you don't want the breastplate, we'll leave that. But you must have the armor."

"I don't need to dress up!" Kavila wanted to scream. "If I get down there fast enough, I can catch them _before_ they leave!"

But her young helpers ignored her, and soon she was fitted with a full soldier's uniform, minus the breastplate and distinctive helm. Tam led her into the stables where the other two boys waited. They looked her up and down, nodding. "You look as grand as any soldier of Gondor, my lady," Nival said. "Here is your horse. Her name is Sarwen." He led forward a tan-colored horse fitted with a saddle and several bags. "I'm afraid we did not have any sidesaddles but," he looked at her again, "it seems you are more fit to ride astride her."

Tam darted into the back room and returned with a sword, holding it out. "I nearly forgot. You cannot join the army without a weapon."

Kavila gingerly accepted it and belted it on, having realized that the quickest way to get out of here was to avoid arguments and accept what the boys gave her.

Jarin stepped forward. "I brought you standard soldiers' rations, enough for a week. That should keep you, if you're careful. I'm sorry we've no better fare. Here behind the saddle is your bedroll. This is your waterskin." All three boys stepped back expectantly.

Kavila took a few moments to collect herself. The boys were very enthusiastic, and in the whirlwind of activity she'd had little time to think about what she was doing. However, she quickly decided that that was not the road to travel for now, or she'd never get out of the stables.

"Um, thanks a lot, you guys…you're very, ah, generous," Kavila said. The three boys murmured modest answers, then returned to watching her.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Nival spoke up. "You ought to mount your horse, my lady."

"Oh…yeah…" Kavila said as she regarded the mare with trepidation. It seemed so far off the ground…and how was one supposed to ride with all those bags tied all over it? Jarin stepped up beside her when she made no move to mount.

"Have you ridden before, my lady?" he asked her. Kavila dropped her eyes as she shook her head, slightly embarrassed by her ignorance.

Jarin didn't hesitate. "Put your left foot here on the stirrup, and push yourself up and into the saddle." Kavila did so, viewing the faraway ground with unease. She started as the mare shifted beneath her. Jarin reached over and patted the mare's neck, whispering, "Shh Sarwen, hush, you're a good girl, all is well…" He looked back up at Kavila. "She can sense your feelings, your nervousness, and it makes her edgy," he told her.

"Oh, wonderful!" Kavila said sarcastically, but she made a concerted effort to still the sick feeling in her stomach that told her this was not a smart idea. She already knew that; she didn't need her instincts to tell her.

But no matter how ill-conceived this plan was, Erin and Adrienne's escape was far more foolhardy. Kavila drew in a deep breath. She had to help them. She was the only one who could now. Even if they would look upon her help ungratefully, it was for the best.

Nival showed her the reins and how to hold them, giving her quick instructions in guiding the mare. Then he stepped back with the other boys, clearing the way for Kavila to ride out. They all nodded their approval.

Now that the time had come, Kavila didn't want to go. She knew that once she left this stable there was no going back until she had found Erin and Adrienne. There were so many what ifs, so many unconsidered dangers…but she had to. She couldn't sit by in Minas Tirith and watch her injured friends ride away.

"Um…thank you again…" Kavila said.

Tam's expression became serious. "Ride fast, and find your goal. Be safe, fair lady." His friends also put on grave faces, and Kavila fought the urge to laugh at their seriousness. Instead, she turned toward the stable door and gently kneed Sarwen's sides. The horse moved into a walk just as Nival had said, and soon Kavila was out the stable door and into the sunlight, the boys' goodbyes echoing after her.

Kavila coaxed Sarwen into a faster pace, trying to ignore her own panic at riding for the first time. She had a strong feeling that time was running short. She just hoped her…what was it?...hauberk hid both her dark skin and her gender as she moved quickly through the levels. She felt eyes on her, but not many; she figured there would have been more if it had been obvious she was a woman.

When she reached the destroyed gates, she had to consciously keep herself from staring. The massive, thick metal lay in twisted ruin where it had fallen two days prior, the city's scant resources having been devoted to other preparations.

She passed out of the city and onto the Fields, and a new anxiety gripped her as she saw the army spread out before her. Seven thousand, Gandalf had said. How would she ever find Erin and Adrienne among seven thousand men?

Kavila was not given time to ponder the question, for at that moment the army fell completely silent. Kavila stilled Sarwen quickly, trying to avoid attention, which any noisemaking would surely draw.

The reason for the sudden silence soon became apparent. Far away at the head of the army, Aragorn was making a speech; somehow his deep voice carried all the way to the back of the army.

As she listened to his words, Kavila felt a strange thing happen: her anxiety began to diminish, replaced by a sense of optimism and righteousness. "And when the Enemy is thrown down, then shall a new day arise, and your children and their children shall live in its light," he said, and Kavila found her spirits rising. She began to feel that she was part of something great, something good, and that feeling gave her pride. It wasn't a change of heart; she was still quaking inside at the thought of being present at the Battle of the Black Gates, although if luck was with her she might be able to find her friends early enough to turn back. It was more a sudden understanding, a realization that gave her insight into her friends' fascination with war.

Suddenly all those about her sprang into movement, and Sarwen followed without Kavila's direction. At first Kavila was terrified by the sensation of being caught in a flood of beasts and men, with loud pounding of hooves ringing in her ears; but gradually the excitement that hung so thick in the air began to infect her. The horse's muscles were strange to feel beneath her saddle, but also interesting to observe as Sarwen ran with her fellows.

Kavila scanned the cavalry about her halfheartedly, despairing of ever finding her friends in this mass of humanity. Then her eyes came to rest upon a group of foot soldiers. Well, she knew they weren't in that part of the army; she had seen them ride out of the stable, and besides, Adrienne couldn't have managed walking that long.

As she looked over the army, Kavila realized that that qualification ruled out more than half the soldiers. The majority of this army was on foot, not on horseback. All she had to do was search the cavalry units, which would be relatively easy since she was mounted herself.

_Great. I only have to search 3,000 soldiers, instead of 7,000_, she thought sarcastically. But despite her train of thought, hope was blossoming anew in her heart. With those odds, maybe it would be possible to find her friends.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

ALL THAT day the army marched. The horses were kept at a restful walk, the pace set by the infantry. Erin and Adrienne moved throughout the army, careful to avoid staying with a single company long enough to draw scrutiny. Periodically Adrienne offered Erin a drink of medicated water, which she accepted gratefully. Adrienne could see that Erin was not doing well; she was pale beneath the helm, and her speech was clipped with pain. The blood loss had probably weakened her much more than it had Adrienne.

Briefly Adrienne thought that perhaps it had not been a good idea to bring Erin along on this. Her health did not appear to be up to such a journey. The constant bouncing on the saddle had to be incredibly painful, not to mention the armor rubbing against her side, and the tiny doses of painkiller Adrienne was giving her couldn't be much help. But Adrienne was afraid that larger or more frequent doses would dull their senses and vigilance, something they could not allow. Successfully reaching the Black Gates required that they be continually and fully alert.

Adrienne's attention, however, was being increasingly drawn to her throbbing foot. If she had been anywhere else, she would have had it up on pillows in an attempt to lessen the blood flow. She desperately tried to ignore the pain; she'd had broken toes and other foot injuries in color guard, and had never missed a day of school because of them. She had considered herself pretty well-prepared for the rigors of this journey.

_Damn it, Adrienne, lock it away! Concentrate on your surroundings! Erin is in no shape to pay attention to them!_ Adrienne gave herself a mental upbraiding.

Looking about her, Adrienne noticed that the setting sun was beating hard upon the backs of the soldiers. The East looked even more forbidding, the Mountains of Shadow blood-red. Men found excuses to look in their saddlebags or converse with their fellow soldiers, rather than stare at the terrain ahead. Adrienne concentrated on it, trying to face and conquer her fears. Mordor. Even for her, or perhaps especially for her, it was a name out of stories, out of fiction. She had never expected to be getting this close to the real thing. The forbidding mountains seemed to symbolize the strength of the Enemy, too great for any army to defeat, especially not one only seven thousand strong. Well, seven thousand and two.

_Remember the books_, Adrienne reminded herself. _Remember how they ended. So far it's followed the books exactly. There's no reason for it to deviate now_. But in her heart, Adrienne knew there didn't need to be a reason. Tolkien wrote his tale before the fact; it could not be relied on for truth. The only truth was uncertainty.

Earlier that day the army had passed through Osgiliath; or rather, they had passed through the ruins of Osgiliath. The city was utterly reduced to rubble, its high towers and white domes broken and leveled, the reverent silence marred only by the cries of men working to restore the bridges and the violent rhythm of the army echoing off the stone. Yet even in its twilight the city possessed a measure of its former glory and beauty, the winds whispering stories of long-dead ghosts to those who would listen, sending shivers down Adrienne's spine. The smooth curve of an archway, the carved designs that once decorated the eaves of some grand building inspired visions of grace and splendor in one's mind, and Adrienne found herself longing for her sketchbook. As they crossed the Anduin the rippling water blurred the lines of reality, and for a moment Adrienne had thought she saw the high-domed structure behind them, whole and gleaming in the sun. Then she had blinked, and the vision was gone.

Adrienne was jerked out of her thoughts when the riders in front of her came to a stop. Adrienne craned her neck, trying to see what was happening. In the dim light of approaching dusk, she could just make out a figure at the head of the party raising a fist in the signal to halt. Gradually men began leading their horses off the road, and Adrienne realized it was time to make camp.

She nodded to Erin and they dismounted, following the men in front of them. Adrienne leaned over briefly, whispering, "Do what everyone else does." Erin nodded, lips tightened into a thin red line, stark against her pale face. Adrienne knew she probably looked similar, since her foot was filled not only with throbbing pain, but with pins and needles to boot. Riding all day was not the same as riding for a couple of hours in lessons, and there had been few rests. She knew her entire body was going to pay dearly for this tomorrow morning, not just her foot.

The men directly ahead of them began removing saddlebags and tack from their horses, giving the animals to a legion of stableboys. Adrienne did likewise, memorizing the particular features of Caelef: he had a white ankle on his right foreleg, and some scattered white spots on his rump. Then she handed the reins over, nodding her thanks to the stableboy who took them. She and Erin then followed the same group of men to what appeared to be their assigned location for camping. Adrienne gave a sigh of relief to find that it was near the horses; that meant the walk in the morning, which she would surely feel even less inclined to make, would be short.

It also meant that the walk from the horses to the assigned camp was short. Adrienne's foot was violently protesting her decision to refuse Erin's aid in carrying her tack, as well as her attempts to walk normally. She couldn't help favoring it a little, but she didn't want to draw attention by openly limping around.

Erin had noticed Adrienne's pain as well, from the looks she was giving Adrienne. Adrienne barely held back a tart remark to Erin about looking to her own health. That was one of the reasons Adrienne had refused to let Erin carry extra tack; she personally didn't think Erin was strong enough to carry any more than her own baggage.

Erin nearly collapsed onto the ground when they stopped at what was to be the site of their tent, proving Adrienne's theory that she was weaker than she let on. She watched with confusion as Adrienne began unrolling and setting up the tent. "What are you doing?" she asked softly as Adrienne came near.

"Pitching camp." Adrienne whispered back. She gestured to the rest of the camp, where the other soldiers were doing the same thing.

"What can I do to help?" Erin asked, obviously guilty that Adrienne was doing all the work.

Adrienne looked at her critically. "How about you go through the saddlebags and figure out how much edible stuff we've got? Then you can ration it out and have dinner ready when I'm done."

"You're relegating me to food preparation? Our situation must be dire indeed," Erin said with only a hint of mirth.

"You don't look strong enough to help me at all," Adrienne answered with a snort. Erin gave her an indignant glare, and Adrienne realized that had been the wrong thing to say.

"I can too…help…you," Erin huffed as she dragged herself to her feet. "Erin Warford reporting for duty, sir." Her voice was barely above a whisper, and Adrienne doubted she could have produced a louder tone.

Adrienne raised her eyebrows skeptically, and decided to take a different approach. "Erin, it'll be more efficient if we split up the chores. Remember, I know how to set up a tent. I was in Indian Princesses."

"Indian Princesses?" Erin asked, sinking back to the ground. Apparently she had accepted Adrienne's logic. Adrienne suppressed a sigh of relief; Erin was definitely in worse condition than she was, and Adrienne didn't want to exacerbate her condition further by making her help with such a physical chore as setting up a tent.

"It's kind of like Girl Scouts, but we learned a lot about survival…including how to set up a tent. Granted, those were more modern tents, but I think I can figure this out," Adrienne replied.

Erin pulled the saddlebags toward her with a defeated sigh. "Good luck."

WHEN AT first the army came to a stop, Kavila panicked. Her thoughts raced. Had someone discovered her and reported her? Perhaps they had seen that she was dark-skinned! If she could just talk with Gandalf, or even Aragorn…he might remember her… But then the men around her began to dismount, and Kavila relaxed, realizing how dark it had become. It was just time to stop for the night.

Yet this caused a new anxiety to arise in her. Her mind picked up speed again as she dismounted carefully, grimacing at the pins and needles in her legs. She had no idea what to do now. All she knew about making camp was that it involved tents and fires, neither of which she knew how to set up. She didn't even know if she had a tent! Sarwen snorted beside her, and a new concern entered Kavila's mind. How did she take care of Sarwen? She didn't think the boys had mentioned anything about supplies for the mare…Sarwen would need food and water, at least. And what was she supposed to do with all the bags? _Great, Kavi. You should have known you'd end up in this situation. You're stuck out here alone, with no clue what to do. Somebody's going to figure out that you're not supposed to be here if you stand around gawking._

The men in front of her began to move forward, and Kavila realized that the men behind her would expect her to follow them. She'd just have to see where they were going. Maybe she could copy what they did. _As long as I don't have to improvise, I'll be fine. Improvisation is not my strong point._

Kavila sighed with profound relief when she got close enough to realize the men were handing over their horses. With a lot of trial and error, she managed to free the saddle, staggering under the weight of all her supplies. A grinning stableboy took Sarwen, and Kavila barely stopped herself from thanking him. She didn't want to give away her gender, and she doubted she could lower her voice enough to pass for a male.

Turning, she continued to follow the soldiers in front of her. It had worked once, after all; she just hoped fate wasn't going to give up on her yet.

A few hundred paces later the men ahead of her began stopping. At first Kavila wondered what they were doing, and then comprehension dawned: they were setting up tents and fires and, well, making camp. All seemed to be laughing and talking quite amicably; they must have been from the same town. And, Kavila realized with a sinking heart, they were claiming tents in partners. There was no way she, with only a bedroll, was going to be able to fit in with them.

Kavila was once again at a loss for ideas. She wanted to sit down and cry; she was lost, alone, scared out of her wits, and completely out of her depth. She forced herself to take a deep breath. _Calm down, Kavi, and think! You've come too far to give up now. Analyze the problem, and then figure out a solution._

She was in an army camp that she was not supposed to be in, where everyone else was busy setting up tents and preparing dinner. She had no tent, no fire, and nowhere to put her bedroll. But she did have the blanket, and she did have food and water. Therefore, unless the weather turned foul, she had the means to survive.

Her friends _were_ here; not just Erin and Adrienne, but Megan and Sarah as well. They were the only people in this camp she could trust, or talk to for advice. Anyone else would immediately recognize her gender, and would report her. Yet as she looked around the camp, she realized just how huge a camp of seven thousand soldiers could be. It would be impossible to locate even one of her four friends.

Kavila felt a wave of hopelessness. There was no way she was going to get through this. The constant stress was wearing her down too much; she couldn't be strong anymore. She didn't _want_ to be strong anymore. For once she wanted somebody to wrap their arms around her and hold her while she cried out her frustration and despair.

That did it; the tears came, and she was unable to stop them. She stumbled wearily into the space between two tents and sank to the ground, letting them flow. She didn't care that she was probably sobbing loudly enough for someone in the nearby tents to hear; she didn't care that she might be discovered.

Suddenly a hand on her shoulder startled her. Kavila tried to stop the tears, heart pounding with sudden fear as she looked up at her discoverer. This was it. As soon as they figured out that she was a girl, they would take her to their commander. Her foolish gamble would be ended.

The face staring down at her was wrinkled but kind. The man had warm brown eyes, Kavila saw. "Come here, boy," he said. "What's wrong?"

"N-n-nothing," Kavila managed. In the next moment she realized with a shock that she had made no attempt to disguise her voice.

The man's eyes widened. "A girl?" he said, straightening up a little in surprise. Kavila just nodded. Denying it would do no good.

The man considered this for a few moments, then nodded to himself as if he had made a decision. "Have you a tent, lass?" he asked. Kavila shook her head. She still didn't trust her voice. "Come back with me, then. I've no companion."

Kavila shook her head a little more vehemently. Share a tent with a strange man? That was just inviting trouble!

The man must have seen her fear in her expression, because he smiled encouragingly. "I meant it kindly, lass. I'll not hurt you."

Kavila started to decline again, but at that moment a gust of wind blew through the space between the tents, chilling her even beneath the cloak. It was still March here, and still cold enough at night to be uncomfortable. Besides, what if a storm came up during the night? She would be out in the open, and everything she had would be drenched, including her food supplies.

At the same time, everything she had ever been taught was urging her to say no. All the normal things every child was lectured about: don't talk to strangers, never go anywhere with strangers, never trust strangers. And then there were the principles of her Hindu heritage, which mandated she wasn't even supposed to have contact with the male gender at her age. Of course, that had been unrealistic, both at school and in the modern world…but her parents would be aghast at the idea of her accepting this stranger's proposal!

Once again Kavila met the eyes of this strange man who had made such tempting overtures of compassion. They were warm, kind, eyes…everything about the man bespoke kindness. She wanted with all her heart to trust the man, even though her every nerve screamed against it. His accent and manner were much like Vilad's.

With a weary sigh, she nodded her acceptance. The man's smile grew, and he bent to pick up her baggage from where she had dropped it. Just as he was about to turn away, he said, "I'm sorry! My name is Hervan."

"I'm Kavila," she said softly, having finally recovered both her voice and her wits after the fright of being exposed.

The man nodded, starting off towards his tent. Kavila had no choice but to follow.

AN HOUR LATER, Erin and Adrienne had finished their chores (with a bit of ingenuity on Adrienne's part), and the two girls were enjoying a meal of bread and cheese inside their tent.

"So, what have we got?" Adrienne asked around a mouthful of the yellow cheese.

"For rations, we've got enough food to last us for about six days, if we eat two reasonable meals a day. Most of it's nonperishables: jerky, dried fruit, and waybread—the normal kind, not lembas. The good bread—" she held up her bread—"and the cheese we'll eat first, before it goes bad."

Adrienne nodded, her mail clanking with the movement. They hadn't dared to take it off, in case someone poked their head in. They hadn't gotten far enough from the city yet to take such risks; it would be too easy to send them back. "What have we got that isn't food?"

"The basics. Soap, waterskin, curry comb, change of clothes, blanket, rope, firestarting kit, and a utility knife. Two of each," Erin replied. "Oh, and we've got the healing stuff you brought."

"Which reminds me, we need to change our bandages," Adrienne said, looking doubtfully around the small tent. They had no lantern, and so were eating in relative darkness. That was not a good way to change bandages.

She got up on her knees and peeked out of the tent. Most of the surrounding tents were dark; everyone knew that there was an early departure the next morning. "I think we can do it outside; there's some light from a nearby fire."

Erin was skeptical. "I'm _not_ undressing out there! What if someone walks by and sees that I'm, well, a girl?"

Adrienne suppressed a chuckle; Erin was fanatically modest sometimes, a trait one quickly lost in color guard, where Adrienne had learned that modesty was overrated. "Just take off everything that keeps me from getting to your bandages, except your tunic. You can just lift that up a little. We can tie the tent flap open and see how much light that gives us."

Erin seemed to accept the necessity of the situation, shivering a little as she took off her upper layers of clothing. Being mid-March, it wasn't particularly warm, either inside the tent or out. That had been nice during the day, since the multiple layers hadn't proven uncomfortably hot; at night, though, it was a bit more of a hindrance.

Adrienne found the cache of medicine and tied open the tent flap. Once her eyes adjusted, she found she could see well enough to do the job, though the conditions were far from ideal. She began to prepare the poultices carefully.

"How do you know what to do?" Erin asked somewhat suspiciously.

"I asked Megan once while she was tending my foot," Adrienne replied. "She explained the whole thing."

Erin remembered the incident. She had listened halfheartedly, but Kavila had been tending to her wound, and that had absorbed most of her attention.

Adrienne finished mixing the herb paste, and looked at Erin's side. The bandage had some dark stains on it, but they seemed small. Adrienne unwrapped the bandage, carefully watching Erin's reactions to her touches. As Adrienne pulled the last bit of bandage from the wound, Erin flinched and drew in a sharp breath. Patches of dried blood dotted her skin, clumping a little around the wound, sticking the bandage to the tender area of her injury like an adhesive. Adrienne grimaced; that must have hurt badly. She was a little worried to see how hers looked, since she thought the wound might have reopened, undoing the three days of mending.

Adrienne pushed that from her mind as she concentrated on binding Erin's injury. She knew she was hurting her friend as she attempted to clean the wound and see if it had reopened; Erin's breathing was shallow and harsh and her eyes squeezed shut.

To Adrienne's dismay, the wound was bleeding. Not freely; the healers' stitching had done its work. But blood was leaking in thin trickles between the stitches. Trying to ignore her friend's obvious discomfort, Adrienne spread the paste she had made over the bleeding spots, hoping that would stem it. Erin couldn't afford any more blood loss. Back on Earth, she probably would have been getting a blood transfusion by now.

Unfortunately, Adrienne doubted even Lord Elrond himself had discovered blood transfusions. Once the salve was in place, Adrienne carefully began wrapping a clean bandage around the wound, tying it tightly. Pressure was another way to help stop the blood flow. When she had finished, she gave Erin a reassuring smile. "I'm done."

Erin grinned back weakly. Her face was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and she was still catching her breath. "Your turn," she said in as cheerful a tone as she could muster.

Adrienne suppressed a groan. "I can do this by myself, I think," she told her friend. "Unlike with your wound, I can reach it easily."

Erin nodded a little. "I'll be right here if you need any help," she said.

Adrienne paid her little attention. Her full concentration was on getting her boot off as painlessly as possible…which was not very painlessly, even with all the laces undone. Her muscles were still healing, and the bulky bandage only exacerbated the problem. After several agonizing moments Adrienne slid the leather over the bandage and off her foot, groaning in relief. However, her relief was soon overshadowed by a greater worry: her foot was bleeding profusely, judging by the look of the bandages. With a grimace half of pain, and half of distaste, Adrienne unwrapped the soaked bandage. As the last scrap of fabric came away, Erin gasped behind her. "Adrienne, that looks horrible!"

"That's because it _is_," Adrienne retorted through gritted teeth. "Get me some water and a clean rag." When Erin had complied, Adrienne quickly worked to clean the wound. The pressure of the tight boot had helped somewhat to curb the bleeding, but now that the boot and bandage were removed, the wound was bleeding freely. Riding all day with gravity pulling all her blood toward her foot probably hadn't helped the situation.

Adrienne applied the poultice and tied the clean bandage as tightly as she could manage. Then she placed her saddle at the foot of her blanket and lay back, resting her foot on the saddle so that it was elevated. Hopefully that too would help ease the bleeding. She could only pray it stopped by morning.

Erin reached for the waterskin holding the pain medication, passing it to Adrienne before taking a sip herself. No more than that; a drug-induced sleep might make them miss the call in the morning. Erin was sure she would miss it anyway; she slept too deeply. But Adrienne was a light sleeper and would wake with the rest of the camp.

Erin reached up and untied the tent flap, returning the tent interior to darkness. Despite their pain, she and Adrienne were soon asleep.

DURING THE walk to Hervan's tent, neither he nor Kavila said a word. He seemed to respect her wish to remain undiscovered, and her need to sort out her whirling thoughts. She couldn't believe she had said yes to his offer! Her parents would kill her if they ever found out! And yet she wanted so much to trust this man…he had a fatherly air about him.

Resolutely she turned her thoughts away from Hervan. Doubtlessly he would ask her many questions when they reached his tent, and she had to figure out what to tell him. She obviously could not reveal her true origins; she didn't think Hervan would be as inclined to believe the tale as Gandalf or Aragorn had been. But Hervan did present an interesting and tempting opportunity for help in her search.

A few minutes later Hervan paused beside a tent. Kavila wondered how he knew it was his; every tent in the row looked exactly alike. But he stepped confidently inside with her gear, and there was nothing she could do but follow.

Hervan was moving his possessions to the left side of the tent as Kavila entered. He grinned at her as she sat rather uncertainly on the right side. "You can spread your bedroll out there, lass," he said. Kavila reached for the rolled-up blanket and worked at deciphering the clasps.

When she finished laying her blanket out, she realized with a brief pang of fear that Hervan was watching her. _He's just trying to figure me out, she told herself. He doesn't know anything about me or why I'm here_. But the scrutiny sent off warning bells in her mind.

"You aren't very familiar with your gear, are you, lass?" he asked her suddenly, breaking the tense silence.

"No," Kavila replied without thinking, wincing at how it sounded as she sat down on the blanket. _I'm a complete novice, and I've got no clue what I'm doing here_, was what she had revealed to him in that monosyllabic answer.

Hervan handed her some food and her waterskin. Kavila's stomach growled audibly. She hadn't eaten lunch, since she hadn't known where to find it in her packs. Hervan's next question was quite predictable. "What are you here for, lass?"

Predictable or not, the question made Kavila wince inwardly. How to explain this without giving away too much?

"Um…I…I'm from Minas Tirith," she began, breaking off a piece of bread. "Two of my friends were hurt in the battle there, and were forbidden from coming along here. They're in no condition to be here. I was taking care of them in the Houses of Healing, and they snuck out on me. They're somewhere in the army here, and I'm trying to find them."

Hervan nodded a little. "You aren't from Minas Tirith." he stated matter-of-factly.

Kavila couldn't hide her chagrin as she reached for her waterskin. She never had been a good liar. "Don't ask me about that," she pleaded, but he shook his head.

"I ought to know who I am sharing my tent with," he said. "I'd rather not wake in the middle of the night with a knife at my throat."

"I would never do that!" Kavila exclaimed, her eyes wide as she choked on her water. Hervan laughed outright at her expression.

"And I believe you now. You would have to be a talented spy indeed to conjure an expression like that!" he said. "Though the color of your skin is the same as that of some soldiers of the Enemy."

Kavila nodded. His suspicion was understandable. "Perhaps they're not evil at heart, but fight because they're forced to," she said.

"Perhaps," Hervan said, and then fell silent. Kavila swallowed hard; she wanted to ask him something, but wasn't sure how to phrase it.

"Can…can I stay with you, just until I find my friends?" she asked finally. The uncertainty on her face must have showed through, because Hervan smiled warmly.

"Of course you may. I would be heartless if I were to cast out one so young," he replied. "How old are you, lass?"

"Um…17 years old," Kavila opted for the truth, watching his reaction nervously as she started in on the cheese.

Hervan's eyebrows rose a little. "Seventeen, and unmarried?" he asked. When she nodded, he shook his head. Kavila stifled a laugh at the reaction. "And are your friends also young women?"

Kavila sighed. "Yeah. But I'm sure they did a much better job of not getting noticed."

"Why is that?" Hervan asked.

"Um…they've read about all this stuff and they've gone camping before, so they know what they're doing. Better than I do, at least. Although I'm not sure what they'll do about their injuries." she replied.

"How serious are their wounds?" he asked, brows creased in thought.

"Adrienne's wasn't too bad, compared to most; she had a knife cut right here in her ankle," Kavila pointed to the spot on her own foot. "Erin's was worse. She had a slash across her left side. She lost a lot of blood, and was really weak."

Hervan nodded. "Do you know what area of the army they are in?"

"They're on horses, I know that. I saw them leaving the stables," Kavila answered, her disgust at not catching them then evident in her voice.

Hervan, however, was grinning. "That will make it easier to find them, then! Finish your meal, and then I will show you how to care for your tack. Then we will sleep, and tomorrow we will begin the search!"

MEGAN AND Sarah rode throughout the day at the head of the army, talking and bantering with the Lords. Much of the laughter and smiles were strained, as the griefs of the Pelennor remained fresh in many minds. Legolas and Gimli, riding next to Megan and Sarah, were the best company. Their endless bickering sent ripples of mirth throughout the entire group.

Late in the afternoon the infantry stopped to camp, and the horsemen continued on for several miles until they came to the Crossroads. The lush forests of Ithilien surrounded it, dark in the dimming light of evening. Wildflowers dotted the ground, heedless of the nearby evil of Minas Morgul, knowing only that it was spring.

As Megan surveyed the scenery she became aware of angry shouts coming from some of the men. At the edge of the Crossroads stood a stone carving of a man seated upon a regal throne. Once, she thought, it would have been a commanding statue. But now the old king's head was gone, resting upon the ground with a wreath of white and yellow flowers. In its place sat a rough carving of a head with a single eye, its features covered with hideous scrawls in the tongue of Mordor. In fact, Megan noticed, the graffiti was engraved upon the entire figure.

The Lords' faces showed their anger clearly. When Aragorn spoke, his voice was clipped. "We shall camp here." Faramir led a group of Rangers to scout the area, and the rest of the cavalry set about making camp. Some men, under the orders of Imrahil, set about cleaning the filthy work of the Orcs off the statue, replacing the old king's head. When they finished he sat tall and intact once more, keeping solitary vigil over the straight road from Osgiliath, the crown of flowers shining in the fading light of day.

Kalva had refused (politely, of course) to pitch his tent among those of the Lords. He had, however, insisted that Megan and Sarah remain with the Lords, where they would be better protected. The Lords' tents stood in the center of the camp, and though each was a renowned warrior in his own right, their status and importance made them valuable targets.

Megan and Sarah pitched their plain army tent between the giant, flag-adorned command tent and the similarly ordinary tent of Legolas and Gimli. The tent turned out to be quite similar to modern ones, though decidedly less complicated in assembly. Megan supposed there wasn't too much you could do to change the design of a simple, one-room tent; you could alter the fabric and the type of poles to give it more strength, but the general assembly wouldn't change. With a little good-natured help from Legolas the two girls were soon inside their tent, enjoying a small but filling meal of solders' rations. The army had brought no cooks; they did not expect to need food after the battle.

"I wonder how everybody's doing back home," Sarah mused aloud.

"I bet they're very confused," Megan answered with a small smile. "After all, we disappeared in the middle of class."

Sarah looked a little surprised. "Oh, no, I meant Minas Tirith." She laughed ruefully. "I'm already thinking of Minas Tirith as home."

Megan didn't laugh. She didn't think the idea of Minas Tirith as home was particularly good. Much as she enjoyed learning and living in Middle Earth, she didn't want to spend her life here. She clung tenaciously to the hope that Gandalf would eventually find a way to get them home.

A call from outside broke the uncomfortable silence. Megan reached up and opened the tent flap to reveal familiar golden hair. "Gandalf has asked that you be present in the command tent," Legolas said. Megan and Sarah shared a look. The command tent? Megan shrugged and stepped into the night air, and Sarah followed.

When they reached the large tent, they ducked quickly inside the lamplit doorway. Inside the Lords were hunched over a long table spread with maps. Gandalf nodded at them briefly as they entered, joining Pippin in the corner. A few of the other Lords looked up with brief expressions of distaste, as if they did not approve of women (dressed for battle, nonetheless) being present for this discussion. Megan fought down a stab of annoyance as she concentrated on the men's words.

"We should take back the Morgul Vale while we are near," Prince Imrahil was saying. "The Nazgul Lord is overthrown and its garrisons emptied, whereas we shall be fresh and strong when the infantry arrives tomorrow morn. We should strike now, when the attack is least expected."

"The pass there is less well-guarded than the Morannon," a blond-haired man in the uniform of the Rohirrim put in. Megan knew his name was Elfhelm, and he was Eomer's second-in-command; he had ridden with them during the day. "It would be less difficult to enter Mordor through there."

Gandalf and Aragorn exchanged glances, and then Gandalf shot a pointed look in Megan and Sarah's direction, as if to say "Well?" Megan realized then why Gandalf had asked Legolas to bring them in. He had known this topic would be discussed, and had wanted to make sure the "correct" decision was made. He wanted them to guide this debate in the direction it was supposed to go according to the books. Megan returned the wizard's stare with one of her own glares, annoyed at his manipulations.

Suddenly Sarah spoke up beside her. "How do you know the pass isn't well-guarded?" she said, as all heads turned to regard her with surprise. "Have you sent scouts?"

Imrahil frowned. "It has no Black Gate."

"It has a tower full of Orcs, doesn't it?" Sarah continued. Megan cringed inwardly. _Don't say anything about Shelob, please don't_…Their knowledge of the giant spider would only bring suspicion on them. "Besides, Sauron must know about this pass. It's the only other way into Mordor. Do you really think he isn't going to make a greater effort to guard it?"

Faramir's brows creased thoughtfully. "I have heard tales of a dark terror that dwells in the mountain pass of Cirith Ungol."

"Aren't Orcs terror enough?" Pippin said softly next to Megan. She rested a hand on his shoulder in comfort, feeling his shivers of fear as he remembered his own captivity in the hands of the Orcs.

Gandalf spoke up. "If Frodo has truly passed that way, it would be unwise to draw attention there, for such a move would endanger the one advantage we seek to preserve."

Even Elfhelm and Imrahil nodded in agreement. Now Aragorn spoke. "Yet I would not leave this stronghold wholly intact," he said. "I will ride with Gandalf on the morn, and look upon it, and perhaps leave behind a reminder of our passing."

Then the discussion turned to other subjects of a more casual nature, as friends rejoiced in their time together, dismissing for awhile the cares that had plagued them for so long. When Megan and Sarah returned at last to their tent the moon was high in the sky.

THE DAY AFTER, being the third day since they set out from Minas Tirith, the army began its northward march along the road. It was some hundred miles by that way from the Cross Roads to the Morannon, and what might befall them before they came so far none knew. They went openly but heedfully, with mounted scouts before them on the road, and others on foot upon either side, especially on the eastward flank; for there lay dark thickets, and a tumbled land of rocky ghylls and crags, behind which the long grim slopes of the Ephel Duath clambered up. The weather of the world remained fair, and the wind held in the west, but nothing could waft away the glooms and the sad mists that clung about the Mountains of Shadow; and behind them at whiles great smokes would arise and hover in the upper winds.

Ever and anon Gandalf let blow the trumpets, and the heralds would cry: "The Lords of Gondor are come! Let all leave this land or yield them up!" But Imrahil said: "Say not _The Lords of Gondor_. Say _The King Elessar_. For that is true, even though he has not yet sat upon the throne; and it will give the Enemy more thought, if the heralds use that name." And thereafter thrice a day the heralds proclaimed the coming of the King Elessar. But none answered the challenge.

-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

BY THE MORNING of the third day Erin was getting used to the army schedule: up at dawn, ride all day, camp at dusk. So far she and Adrienne hadn't been asked to stand watch; the thought made Erin cringe. She hadn't the faintest idea how the army commanders determined who stood watch; perhaps if she and Adrienne slept with a different company each night they could avoid it.

The army was no longer riding towards the Mountains of Shadow; it had turned north, so that Mordor and the Ephel Duath were an ever present darkness upon the army's right flank. The proximity of such a powerful evil seemed to invite doubts and indecision.

Erin was not immune to this. She found herself questioning her decision to come with Adrienne almost constantly, the pain a perpetual reminder of her foolishness. The justification of coming along to keep Adrienne out of trouble that she used in their playful banter at night was not enough to completely convince herself.

But at the same time, it all felt so right. She loved the feel of the horse beneath her, the sword resting with a comfortable weight at her hip. Yet most of all she enjoyed the feeling that she was part of something good, something important; even if all she did was kill a few Orcs, she would be there making a difference.

And however painful it felt, her wound _was_ healing. She had to admit that there were advantages, as well. The bandages cushioned her skin from the scratchy mail and helped to hide her distinctly feminine build. Adrienne hadn't had that luxury, but her clothes were shapeless enough that she looked like a thin, perhaps rather young boy. So far they hadn't drawn any scrutiny. Erin just prayed to the Valar it stayed that way.

KAVILA WOKE on the morning of the fourth day more discouraged than ever. Even with Hervan's help she hadn't been able to find Erin and Adrienne. Hervan hadn't lost his optimism, but Kavila was beginning to doubt. After all, they had managed to search most of the cavalry in two days' worth of slow riding, and there had been no sign of her friends. Kavila was worried that even if she and Hervan found and exposed Erin and Adrienne, they would be too far away from Minas Tirith to return. At that point, it really didn't matter what Gandalf or anyone else said; Erin and Adrienne would get their way.

And Kavila had the feeling they were either nearing or past that point. Four days' ride from Minas Tirith, the land was getting darker and more forbidding, with fewer trees and browning grass. The wildflowers that had been present the first couple of days had since disappeared, and there had been few sightings of wildlife except for the occasional bird. The mountains to the East made her shiver every time she looked at them, with shadow clinging to their peaks like black clouds. Mordor lay beyond—even she could figure that much out.

Suddenly a man several columns ahead raised his arm, and the men behind him came to an abrupt stop. He spoke briefly with a messenger who had come hurriedly up moments before. After the messenger left he waited, as the army continued to march by with curious looks. When they had finally passed, he stood up in his stirrups and spoke.

"We have received word of an ambush ahead, and have been sent to destroy them. We must move swiftly." With that he returned to his saddle, raised his hand once more, and brought it down in a quick motion, spurring his horse forward as his company surged to life behind him.

Kavila's horse followed instinctively, which was just as well, because the mare wasn't getting any direction from her rider. Kavila fought down a hysterical laugh, frozen with fear. Who would have thought this could happen? Who might have had the _faintest_ idea? Here she was, in the middle of an army headed for battle (the mere thought of which terrified Kavila to her core) against Orcs (who were not supposed to exist) masquerading as a man (which went against every tenet of her religion).

Hervan nudged his mount closer to her and grasped her shoulder briefly, drawing her partially out of her shock. "Stay close to me." Kavila didn't have to be told twice. The horses moved swiftly through the trees, not quite at a gallop; the commander didn't want to attack with tired horses.

A few hours later, after making a wide turn that brought the company into position behind the enemy forces, they emerged onto the road. Kavila's heart pounded, and she touched the hilt of her sword briefly, withdrawing her hand as if stung when it came into contact with the cold metal.

Then the commander once again raised his fist into the air, and the company halted behind him. "We must move quietly now. We are near," he said. He split the company into two halves and sent one into the forest on the left side of the road, and the other into the right. Kavila and Hervan went with the soldiers on the right.

They continued on at a gentle walk for several minutes. Then Kavila began to catch glimpses of a hill ahead, which the road cut through in a man-made canyon. The land they rode over began to rise steadily as the company turned to face the road; Kavila realized they were climbing the hill. Was this the site of the ambush?

Her question was soon answered. Snarling cries erupted from the bushes ahead of them, as the shadows suddenly discharged the twisted forms of several dozen Orcs. The commander howled a battle cry and dug his heels into his charger's sides, and the company followed.

Kavila was frozen in terror as the men began to sweep around her, her mind screaming at her to run. The hideous faces of the Orcs swarmed across her vision, and their foul cries filled her ears. Just as she was about to turn and flee, Heravn tore the reins from her hands and tied them quickly to his saddle horn. When he spurred his horse forward, Sarwen automatically followed, much to Kavila's dismay. "Draw your sword!" he called back as he pulled forth his own with a resounding ring.

Kavila froze for a few more moments, then obeyed with violently shaking hands; if she was charging toward a snarling band of Orcs, she wanted to have something at hand to defend herself. And it didn't look like she had much choice about which direction she was going in.

The two companies clashed with sounds of grating metal and screams. Kavila tried not to watch the men and Orcs around her as they fought; she really didn't think she could handle watching someone get decapitated. Hervan, riding to the left and slightly ahead of her, swung his sword with a controlled ferocity that was fearsome in itself.

An Orc loomed up on her right side, grinning savagely to see her fear. Hervan was too far away to help her, she realized. She held her sword in her right hand; she had only to break this paralysis of fear, to swing, and the Orc would no longer threaten her. She heard Vilad's voice in her mind, as he had spoken during a practice: "Do not let the fear control you. The enemy will show you no pity because you are frightened. If you wish to live, you must fight."

That was all very easy for him to say, Kavila thought as the Orc raised its wicked-looking weapon. But doing it was completely different. To take a life, even such a despicable and evil one, was utterly beyond her. She brought the sword up, the blade visibly shaking in her grip. _If I don't kill this Orc, it will kill other good people like Hervan_, she thought. _I can stop it now, by killing it_. Yet still she wavered with indecision. The Orc blade began its descent.

Suddenly there was a whistling sound near her ear. A knife appeared in the Orc's throat, and it collapsed with a gurgle. Kavila screamed and leaned away from the corpse, nearly falling from her horse. A steadying hand on her back kept her in the saddle, and she turned to see Hervan behind her. He gave her an encouraging smile, saying "Next time, swing!"

Kavila was about to tell him that that wasn't as easy as he made it sound, that it went against everything she had ever been taught, when she saw the Orc approaching him from behind. She instinctively knew Hervan would not be able to turn in time to block its blow. But she was close enough to do something, if she acted soon.

Hervan had been kind to her, and she could not bear the thought of seeing him hurt or even killed right here in front of her. The Orc brought its blade up to strike, grinning at Hervan's back. Kavila's eyes widened impossibly. Hervan noticed and started to turn, but he was too slow, too slow!

With a strange sense of detachment Kavila saw her sword appear in the path of the Orc blade, barely blocking it. She vaguely felt the strain on her arms as the momentum of the blade forced her sword down, down toward Hervan's neck. But by now Hervan had caught sight of the creature and, changing his grip on the blade, he thrust it back into the Orc's chest. With a savage twist he withdrew it, and the Orc slumped to the ground.

When Hervan turned back, he was beaming with pride for her. "We'll make a warrior of you yet!"

Kavila was about to deny this vehemently when the voice of the commander echoed over the now-quiet battlefield. "We have victory!"

The men cheered, and Hervan shared a smile with her. But Kavila was in no mood to smile. The once peaceful hillside was littered with twisted corpses, though Kavila was relieved to note that she saw no men among them. A few of the men were nursing wounds, and Kavila fought down the urge to help them. She had to keep her identity hidden, and that would be difficult if she were that close to them. Her slim, womanly hands would have given her away as well.

With a little laugh Hervan untied her reins from his saddle horn and handed them back to her. "I wouldn't have been able to defend you if you ran off and lost yourself in the forest!" he cut off the protest she had been about to make. She shut her mouth after that comment; he was probably right about her getting lost.

The commander called to them, and they descended the hill to the road, where they waited for the rest of the army to join them. Hervan gave her a reassuring look. "You did well."

"I did not!" Kavila retorted softly, aware that her voice was distinctly feminine and would give her away in a moment. "You had to save me!"

"You were frightened, but you faced your fear. Were it not for you, I would most likely be dead." Hervan answered.

Kavila glared in response.

It didn't take long for the rest of the army to reach the site of the ambush. Kavila smiled to see Megan and Sarah riding at the head of the column with the Lords…and with Legolas. His golden hair flew free in the slight wind, and he smiled as he talked with his companions.

"What are you staring at?" Hervan asked her softly. She whirled indignantly to face him.

"N-nothing!" she said, ignoring his knowing smile.

Nonetheless he said no more on the subject, instead asking a different question. "Are the two girls who ride with the Lords also your friends?" At Kavila's nod he continued his questioning. "Why do they ride openly with the army?"

"They were invited to come," Kavila answered a little sourly. "Erin and Adrienne weren't." Hervan nodded, turning away for a moment to stare intently at the soldiers in their company.

Then the army moved out, and Kavila's thoughts turned to other topics. The images of those Orcs, with their savage expressions and yellow animal eyes, were seared into her memory. Kavila knew she would have nightmares tonight.

In an attempt to distract herself, Kavila tried to keep up the search for her friends, looking for any distinctive characteristics that might give them away. But by the end of the day Kavila had nearly given up hope. Erin and Adrienne must have disguised themselves well. Kavila continued to glance over the soldiers around her out of tired habit, but she no longer believed the effort would yield anything.

Suddenly Hervan touched her shoulder softly to gain her attention. She followed him as he guided his horse through the maze of men. Finally he stopped, catching Kavila's eye and nodding forward. Kavila followed his gaze to two particularly slim soldiers, one slightly bulkier than the other. They did not speak to each other, but as Kavila concluded after several minutes of quiet observation, they were obviously friends; they shared many looks.

Hervan leaned close. "I have been watching them since the battle. They are not as comfortable on their horses or with their swords as others," he whispered so softly Kavila could barely hear him. "The one on the right may have bandages on his chest; he is favoring his left side. The other has a bulkier left boot than right, and may have bandages as well."

Kavila nodded as Hervan leaned away again, trying not to allow the swell of hope that wanted to surface. They had been through this drill several times: find likely candidates, watch them until something disproved them, then move on. Always something happened that crushed Kavila's hopes, be it a quick exchange of words in a deep voice, the removal of a helm, or some other action that made it clear their suspects were truly soldiers.

But this time something seemed different. Kavila couldn't explain it, but the more she watched the two soldiers ahead of her, the more she became convinced that she and Hervan had found their quarry.

ERIN AND ADRIENNE normally spoke as little as possible in the tent after sundown. Then the camp was silent, and their voices could carry; the next tent was not particularly far away. Usually they tended their injuries, ate, and slept.

But not this night. Both were still caught up in the excitement of the day's battle, still trying to believe it had actually happened.

"Did you see that one Orc?" Erin whispered, grinning, while Adrienne began to undress her wound. "It tried to hurt Greda, but I got it!" She and Adrienne giggled.

"Did you see the Orc with the helm that had an Eye on the front? Not just painted, but actually sculpted into the metal? I think he was their leader," Adrienne said. "The commander guy just rode right up and killed him."

Erin grimaced as Adrienne pulled the bandage free, afraid to look down and find a newly opened wound, but to her relief it had stayed closed. She had tried to avoid any swings or quick movements during the battle that might have torn it open. Her efforts, it seemed, had not been in vain.

"Caelef scared me for a moment during the charge. He stumbled a little, and I thought he was going to go down. But he was all right," Adrienne stated with a fond smile as she finished retying the bandage. She and Erin had both grown very attached to their horses during this journey.

Suddenly the tent flap was torn aside. Erin and Adrienne looked up in shock, belatedly realizing that their helms lay in a corner of the tent, their feminine features and long hair clear. A soldier's head appeared in the entrance, and Erin's heart rate climbed even higher. This was it; the charade was over. They would be sent home at first light like errant children.

"You two are coming with me," the soldier said in a voice that sounded very, very familiar.

Erin peered closer. In the dim light she could see that, yes, the soldier before her was definitely dark-skinned. "Kavila? Don't scare me like that!"

"Get out here now, Warford!" Kavila's voice was clipped.

Erin grinned to herself. _Yep, definitely Kavila, _she thought as she reached for her helm. Just as she grasped it Kavila took hold of her sleeve and yanked her roughly into the open air. "I said _now_, Warford!"

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," Erin chuckled as she put her helm on, watching as Adrienne ducked out of the tent behind her.

"That's right, you're coming with me. Right now." Kavila said. Then she turned to another figure standing in the shadows. "All right, where's the command tent?"

"This way," the soldier said in a definitely masculine voice. Erin walked next to Kavila, throwing her searching glances every few seconds. As far as they had known, Kavila was back at Minas Tirith, but now it seemed she had followed them. Kavila wouldn't have known the first thing about blending into an army camp, but she appeared to have made a friend—a male friend, which amused Erin to no end. Oh, what Kavila's parents would say if they could see her now. Then again, Erin mused, what would her own parents say?

"You ought to be able to figure out why I'm here," Kavila said, breaking into Erin's thoughts. Her voice was slightly more high-pitched than normal, and Erin decided to let her vent. "If it hadn't been for you, I'd be in Minas Tirith right now, tending to the three of you, safe and sound and _very_ far away from Orcs and battles."

Erin realized Kavila must have seen the battle earlier that day. "What happened to Vilad?" she asked, reminded of him by Kavila's mention of three patients.

"Don't you dare change the subject!" Kavila retorted, and Erin raised her hands in an expression of harmlessness. Kavila softened her voice slightly. "Raliwen's taking care of him, I left her a note. But you two couldn't be that nice, could you?" Her voice rose again as she returned to her venting. "Oh no, just run off without any notice whatsoever! Do you know who told me you two had escaped?"

Erin just mutely shook her head. She was beginning to get the idea that any smart remarks now would probably endanger her life.

"Merry told me! A _hobbit_ told me!" Kavila said.

"Hobbits are very observant people," Adrienne remarked in a carefully neutral voice, her first comment since they had left the tent. Privately she had been attempting to stifle snickers at Kavila's behavior (not very successfully).

Kavila whirled on her. "Chutka!" (Shut up!). Erin tried to silently advise Adrienne to comply; she knew that when Kavila started speaking in Hindi, it was time to be nice. Kavila realized what had happened, and translated. "That's shut up in Hindi." She returned her attention to Erin. "That goes for you too, Warford!"

"Halt!" a voice suddenly commanded. A soldier stepped into their path, and Hervan bowed low to him.

"We would speak with the Lord Gandalf, sir."

"What is your business, soldier?"

"We need to talk to him. He knows us," Kavila said, stepping up next to Hervan.

The guard froze for a moment, staring at Kavila. She held his gaze, glaring him into submission. She _was_ going to get in there and talk to Gandalf; she would end this misguided charade now. No uncooperative guards were going to get in _her_ way.

The guard nodded briefly and said, "I shall bring him here. If he knows you, you may speak with him."

Erin tried to quell the bad feeling in her stomach as the guard left to fetch Gandalf. Kavila was going to bring down their charade; they would get sent home after all they had done to get this far. And they were going to get a dressing-down from Gandalf they probably wouldn't forget for the rest of their lives.

All too soon they heard the wizard's voice in the distance. "One of them a girl?" Then he came around a tent and reached the girls, his bushy eyebrows meeting over his eyes, which flashed over them the moment they came into his view.

Kavila reached up and removed her helm, and Gandalf's eyebrows shot up. "Kavila?" he said. Erin suppressed a laugh; Kavila was probably the last person Gandalf expected to sneak into the army. She nodded shortly and then grabbed Erin and Adrienne, pushing them roughly toward Gandalf and ignoring the twin glares they sent her way.

"Go on, take off your helmet-thingies!" Kavila prodded.

With a sigh Erin removed her helm, and Adrienne did the same. Gandalf's expression became stony, and she could only guess at the wizard's thoughts. "I thought I forbade you to join the army," he said icily.

"We can explain, my lord," Erin said before Adrienne could retort.

"You had better." Gandalf replied, turning on his heel. "Come, let us discuss this within the shelter of a tent." They followed him dutifully as he led them away from the wide-eyed guard to a large tent within which candles flickered and men talked. Erin exchanged a single worried look with Adrienne before they passed into the tent. A dozen pairs of eyes looked up, at first with vague interest and then with undisguised shock as they realized there were three more girls with Gandalf. Megan and Sarah jumped up from their seat in the corner. "Erin, Adrienne, what are you doing here! I thought Gandalf forbid you to come!" Sarah exclaimed.

"I did." Gandalf growled. Erin tried to meet his gaze, but her face was burning with embarrassment. A dressing down from Gandalf was bad enough, but in front of an audience? And not just any audience—Erin saw Aragorn, Prince Imrahil, Eomer, Legolas, Gimli…and were those other two elves Elladan and Elrohir, the twin sons of Elrond! She suppressed a groan.

"We are sorry, my lord, we did not—" Erin began.

Adrienne cut her off. "Speak for yourself, Erin! I'm not sorry!" Exclamations of shock reverberated through the tent, and Gandalf's frown deepened. "You should have known you couldn't keep us away from battle. Just because we're girls doesn't mean we're helpless!"

Gandalf's gaze flicked to Kavila. "What have you to say? Were you not charged with their care?"

"I came back from walking Sarah and Megan down to the stables, and they were gone, which made no sense. I had given them their medication before I left, and figured they would drink it and go to sleep. I didn't expect to come back and find their beds empty!" Kavila ended.

"But how did you get here?" Erin asked. She would never have thought Kavila had it in her to follow them into the army, and was very curious how the girl had managed it.

"Merry told me you had left saying something about cavalry. I didn't catch you in the armory, so I ran to the stables, but you guys were already riding off down the street. I raced into the stables, since I knew I wouldn't catch you on foot, even though I had never ridden a horse before. The stableboys helped me get a horse ready and get supplies and stuff—they were so cute and helpful, the sweetest little kids you ever saw! Then I went down to the army, and right when I got down there you guys left! So there I was, no clue what I was doing, on a horse I didn't know how to ride, dressed up as a soldier with a sword and armor and…" she shuddered.

"Did you get to see the battle today?" Adrienne asked, smirking.

Kavila's glare grew in intensity. "Don't even get me started."

"How did you meet up with him?" Erin asked, nodding toward Hervan, who stood just inside the tent.

Hervan was smiling as Kavila replied. "He found me when I was having a panic attack after the army stopped, and I didn't have a tent and didn't have any clue what to do. He let me stay with him in his tent and helped me find you two."

"In his tent?" Adrienne asked, her tone teasing.

"Shut up, oh my god shut up…" Kavila said, her tone warning as she realized Adrienne's implications. Erin and Adrienne collapsed in fits of laughter.

"We understand, Kavila." Erin said as soon as she had sobered, resting a hand on her friend's shoulder. "So, did he help you in the battle?"

Kavila's gaze turned icy again. "Well, I wouldn't exactly say help. He grabbed my reins and dragged me into the battle, which almost got us both killed, since there was this Orc that almost got me, and another one that almost killed him."

Hervan stepped in. "Almost. She saved my life, blocking an Orc strike. She was most brave."

Kavila snorted. "I wouldn't say that. If you hadn't tied my reins to your saddle I would have been riding in the other direction as fast as my horse could go," she glared at Hervan, then transferred her glower to Erin and Adrienne. "But I wouldn't have been in that position at all if you two hadn't decided to sneak off like that. Do you know how many years I've probably lost off my life because of all that stress? Do you have any idea how freaking _scary_ it is to come that close to getting killed by an Orc? And speaking of health, do you have _any_ concept of self-preservation _whatsoever_! You were both _wounded_!"

"Care to lower your voice a little, Kavila? I do believe the entire camp has had the privilege of listening to you rant." Erin smirked. Kavila sputtered into silence, words no longer enough to express her exasperation with her friend.

Gandalf broke in, lips twitching with the effort of holding back a smile. "Kavila is correct. Indeed, it was because of your wounds that I forbade you to come. I think now it would probably be wisest to send both of you directly to the healers' tent." Gandalf said, his voice softened by concern.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Adrienne countered. "Erin's wound is closing nicely, and mine gets less painful every day."

"Did you two rob the Healing Houses as well as the armory and stables?" Kavila exclaimed.

Adrienne managed to look a little sheepish. "I took a few herbs, yes…I've been paying attention to how Megan and you took care of my ankle; Megan explained the whole process very well, so I knew exactly what I needed to take care of myself and Erin."

"You were in on this?" Kavila said, turning to Megan, who raised her hands in defense. "I didn't know a thing!" she exclaimed.

"I asked her to explain it, supposedly out of sheer curiosity," Adrienne said with a smirk. "I'd been saving my pain medicine in a waterskin, and when Erin added her last dose in, we had enough to last us to the Black Gates."

Kavila just stared incredulously. "You really had this planned out, didn't you?"

"Adrienne did," Erin said. "I had no idea she was doing any of it until she told me we were leaving."

"And then you left, just like that," Kavila was shaking her head. "You two are hopeless."

"Well, not 'just like that'," Erin said. "I took a little convincing, and then we had to get all our supplies."

Kavila rolled her eyes. Gandalf broke in. "Tomorrow, the three of you shall leave for Minas Tirith. No matter how well your wounds are healing, I do not think it wise to tempt fate by sending you into a second battle." Kavila sent Erin and Adrienne triumphant looks.

Aragorn stepped up beside the wizard. "The roads are too dangerous to send three inexperienced riders alone. They shall be safer here among the army." Now it was Erin and Adrienne throwing triumphant looks at Kavila, who glowered.

"Don't worry Kavila, we'll protect you!" Erin said. "We won't let any mean Orcs almost kill you." Kavila glared more menacingly; she hadn't exactly enjoyed her single experience of being protected. Erin and Adrienne just laughed harder.

The other occupants of the room were regarding the girls with a kind of fascinated shock. Dressed in men's armor, with swords at their side—and joking about battle, which they had obviously experienced—the girls challenged every convention of proper women's behavior. They had had the courage to come on this suicidal mission, and had defied Gandalf's will to do it.

Finally Eomer spoke. "So these are the other three girls you have spoken of, Gandalf?"

"Yes, they are," Gandalf replied with a sigh, introducing each of the girls.

"They remind me of my sister Eowyn," Eomer said with a smile. Erin and Adrienne shared a grin at the mention of Eowyn, remembering how Adrienne had convinced Erin to go along with her plot. "But tell me, how might five young ladies have come to gain such familiarity with Gandalf?"

The girls all looked at each other, uncertain how to reply. Gandalf spoke for them. "That, I think, is a tale for another night when the hour is not so late." he said. "Perhaps another evening we may speak of this. For now it is time to retire, I think."

"Um…Gandalf?" Erin asked hesitantly. "Are we going to stay with the common soldiers?"

"If you wish," the wizard replied. Erin glanced at Adrienne, who was nodding.

"Yes, I think we will, my lord." Adrienne said.

"What about me!" Kavila burst out. She sent Hervan an apologetic glance. "Not that you weren't really nice and all that, but I'd like to get out of this armor and stuff. Too many sharp things…it freaks me out."

"You might join the healers," Gandalf suggested. "I am sure they could find you some more comfortable garments. Armor may be a necessity of war, but it is certainly not comfortable!" he laughed.

Kavila's eyes narrowed. "How come you don't wear any armor, Gandalf? And you never get hurt!"

Erin laughed, ushering Kavila toward the door. "Oh, but he does get hurt! He broke his arm at the Battle of Five Armies."

Gandalf gave Erin a curious look. "And how, pray tell, do you know that?"

Erin grinned. "That, I think, is a tale for another night." she replied, and Gandalf chuckled.

"Very well. Get you gone, then," the wizard said.

"Wait!" Kavila exclaimed as she was nudged insistently through the door, "I don't know how to get to the healers' tent!"

Legolas rose immediately from his seat, where he had been watching the girls with mingled amusement and worry. "I shall escort her, if we are finished here, my lords?" he raised an eyebrow in question, and Aragorn nodded to him with a small smirk, ignoring Kavila's panicked expression. "Then farewell," Legolas said, bowing before he followed the girls out the door.

Aragorn shook his head and chuckled, receiving quizzical looks from the other members of the council. "We have discussed all we may tonight. Now 'tis time to seek our beds," he said, and the others filed out slowly. Finally they were gone, and the ranger sank into a chair at the head of the table, his weariness apparent in the lines of his face. In moments his eyes had closed and he wandered in dreams far from worry.

LEGOLAS QUICKLY fell into step with Kavila, who was trying hard to hide her panic. _Retarded Aragorn_, she thought. _Yes, of course the meeting is over. Go, Legolas. Go torment foolish girls who are utterly infatuated with you. And who will be staying with the army until we get to the Black Gates because it's "not safe" on the road. Not that it will be any safer in the middle of a battlefield._

"'Tis a beautiful night," Legolas remarked in a strange tone, startling Kavila out of her musings.

Kavila looked up at the dark clouds that obscured the stars. "I guess. A little cold, though."

Legolas shrugged. "We Elves do not feel the cold."

"You don't?" Kavila was genuinely surprised. "But why…how?" She wondered if it had to do with their nerve system. Maybe their nerves were unresponsive to temperature change. What an interesting study that would make, Kavila thought.

"I know not. 'Tis our way…we are different from your kind." he replied. Kavila didn't reply. 'Your kind,' he had said. It sounded almost derisive. But of course he looked down on men; he had better eyesight, he was faster, he lived longer. The litany of differences only served to underscore the fact that her infatuation was foolish. Why would he ever like her enough to marry her?

_Why am I thinking like this! _Kavila chided herself_. Of course we're not going to marry, my parents would disown me! And why the _heck_ am I thinking about marriage when it's just a silly obsession!_

"Lady Kavila?" Legolas spoke, sounding concerned. "Whence do your thoughts wander? You seem troubled."

Kavila kept herself from freezing in place only with great force of will. "I…I was…thinking about the battle," she replied, hoping that would pacify him.

"Fear not, my lady. You have many friends who shall protect you, I among them," Legolas said reassuringly.

A friend? He had called himself her friend! _Yes, and just a friend. Nothing more, you retarded girl, _Kavila told herself. _See, he's not interested in you either_.

Suddenly Legolas stopped beside her, turning to face a rather large, green tent, which Kavila recognized as the healers' tent. She glanced behind her quickly, where Erin, Adrienne, and Hervan had been walking. They weren't there.

Legolas saw her backward glance. "Our ways parted some minutes ago," he said. "Did you not hear them bid you farewell?"

"Yes…yes, of course." Kavila stammered, trying to cover up her inattentiveness. "I was just checking to see if there was anyone around here to see us."

Legolas gave her a skeptical glance, and then he called softly, "Are there any healers here?"

Kavila heard movement within the tent, and then the tent flap was drawn back to reveal a familiar white-haired head. "Lindir?" she gasped.

The man looked up. "Ah, yes. Megan's friend, are you not? I am afraid I do not recall your name—my mind is not what it used to be…"

"She is called Kavila," Legolas said, and Kavila threw him a glare. She knew her own name, and could have answered that question perfectly well by herself. "She wishes to join the healers." He turned to her. "It seems you shall be in good hands. I must bid you farewell this evening, my lady, and return to my tent. If luck is with me then perhaps it will not have been felled by that dwarf's incessant snoring." He bowed to her, then turned and strode back down the row of tents. Kavila's gaze lingered after him until he rounded a corner and passed out of sight.

Lindir chuckled a little, and Kavila turned sharply to face him, embarrassed at her lack of self-restraint. "Well then, let us get you into some proper clothing, hm? Then you may tell your tale." He ducked inside the tent, and Kavila had little choice but to follow.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

SO time and the helpless journey wore away. Upon the sixth day from Minas Tirith they came at last to the end of the living lands, and began to pass into the desolation that lay before the gates of the Pass of Cirith Gorgor. So desolate were those places and so deep the horror that lay on them that some of the host were unmanned, and they could neither walk nor ride further north.

Aragorn looked at them, and there was pity in his eyes rather than wrath; for these were young men from Rohan, from Westfold far away, or husbandmen from Lossarnach, and to them Mordor had been from childhood a name of evil, and yet unreal, a legend that had no part in their simple life; and now they walked like men in a hideous dream made true, and they understood not this war nor why fate should lead them to such a pass.

"Go!" said Aragorn. "But keep what honor you may, and do not run! And there is a task which you may attempt and so be not wholly shamed. Take your way south-west till you come to Cair Andros, and if that is still held by enemies, as I think, then re-take it, if you can; and hold it to the last in defence of Gondor and Rohan!"

Then some being shamed by his mercy overcame their fear and went on, and the others took new hope, hearing of a manful deed within their measure that they could turn to, and they departed. And so, since many men had already been left at the Cross Roads, it was with less than six thousands that the Captains of the West came at last to challenge the Black Gate and the might of Mordor.

-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

IT HAD taken seven days, Adrienne reflected as she stood with the army before the Black Gates of Mordor. Seven painful, anxious days plagued by physical agony and the constant fear of being discovered. But it had all been worth it.

Over the past couple of days Adrienne had felt a deep anger toward Sauron growing within her. The land they had passed through was torn and blackened; what few plants existed were brown and twisted, as if they had fallen still after a long and painful battle against the evil which choked them and cast a shadow over the life-giving sun. The evil of the place rose up out of the tortured earth, engulfing and saturating the men with its insidious fear and hatred. Adrienne had always held a profound respect and love for all things green and good; to see them thus mistreated made her nauseous.

The horses were restless, sensing the ill intent of the Dark Lord which pervaded the land. Adrienne had not been able to calm Caelef down since they passed within the boundaries of the Black Lands. She had seen the effect of this darkness on the men as well; it had affected them in Minas Tirith, but not as greatly as it did here, so close to Mordor itself. Many of them had refused to go on, and Aragorn had sent them to Cair Andros. The rest were anxious, and easily angered; tension was so thick in the air it was practically tangible.

And now they waited for the attack, for the first sign of movement of the giant Morannon. No voices were raised in cry or song; no conversation exchanged. Even the land was silent and watchful.

ERIN shuddered as she regarded the Morannon, towering high above the desolate land, all cold iron and darkness. Its sharp, spearlike ramparts jutting towards the dark clouds seemed to symbolize the cruelty and evil of the Dark Lord.

Erin's heart was pounding, her hands shaky upon Greda's reins as she waited for the battle to begin. She was afraid, so afraid that she was nearly numb with the fear. It almost seemed as though she were a spectator, watching herself from a few feet away. She didn't think she'd ever been this terrified before, not even in Minas Tirith. There, she had had Gandalf at her side, and a stone battlement between her and Sauron's army.

Erin felt as though she were in a dream. Though she had been in Middle Earth for nearly two weeks now, she continued to fight the urge to pinch herself. It was all so unreal, so incredible. She tried to tell herself that she was at the Black Gates of Mordor, that she was about to see the Mouth of Sauron, but for some reason it just didn't sink in.

Six thousand, some of the soldiers had said. Six thousand men against hundreds of thousands of the Dark Lord's creatures. The army didn't even seem that large, looking at it now. The men's fear was clearly visible in their expressions—all except the Captains of the West. They stood proudly at the front of the army, heads held high and faces impassive. Erin tried to take heart from that. If Aragorn and Gandalf were not afraid, then she should not be either.

Yet at the same time, a nagging voice in the back of her mind reminded her that Aragorn and Gandalf were supposed to live. The books had said they lived, and so far the war had followed the course of the books. The books did not, however, mention Erin and her friends. They could still be killed, and the reality would have stayed true to the books.

SARAH observed the Black Gates, with their soaring towers that looked like something out of a video game, and found her heart pounding. Back in Minas Tirith riding to battle had seemed interesting enough, but now that she was here, she wasn't so sure that this was a good idea. There weren't even any Orcs out here yet, and she was fighting the urge to run.

_Please, God_, she prayed, bowing her head. _Let me live through this day. Give Frodo strength, and let Sauron be defeated. And please keep my friends safe from harm. Amen._

Sarah was struck with the irony of praying to God here in Middle Earth when, if all Tolkien's works had come true here, there were other gods as well. What would Eru think?

Kalva, seated upon his horse to her left, rested a hand reassuringly on her leg. She looked up to meet his eyes, sure he could read her fear. When their gazes met he gave her a smile. "I shall protect you," he promised her.

_Then again, why was I thinking about theology when I'm about to fight in a battle against Orcs and Trolls?_ she thought with a mental chuckle. From her right, Megan gave Sarah an encouraging smile. They would make it through the day. Whatever gods there were could see to that.

AS SHE looked over the battlefield, Kavila was vaguely surprised that she was still here. Every fiber of her body was screaming at her to run, to flee before the battle began. _But there will be people who need you, Kavi_, she told herself firmly. _What if some soldier died because you weren't here to take care of him?_

She didn't look very much like a healer right now, though. There had been more need for healers on the field than in the empty camp and they needed all the soldiers they could get; thus, she and the other healers had been ordered to don main and sword and stand, at least for awhile, with the soldiers. So Kavila had gathered here, Lindir at her side. He had vowed to protect her when she had protested against being forced to fight, but Kavila was still terrified. He was only one older man. Where was Legolas when you needed him?

And so now they stood here at the Gates of Mordor, waiting for the battle to begin. The waiting was almost as bad as the battle, in her opinion. Almost. While most of her was merely frightened, there was a part of her that just wanted the ordeal over with. These anxious moments spent waiting for the signal to attack were endless.

Lindir shifted next to her. "Have mercy on us, Nameless One, and end this wait!" he growled softly.

"Personally, I'd rather we just didn't have to fight at all," Kavila whispered back.

"So we all wish. But if we did not fight now, the burdens of war would fall again upon our children." Lindir replied. "I would not leave them such a task."

"No," Kavila agreed. Before she could say more, several riders left the front of the army and started toward the Black Gate.

MEGAN watched the Lords of the West ride forth, their armor gleaming even in the darkness, and wondered once again how she could be standing here. None of it was supposed to exist, none of it was supposed to be happening. If, a few weeks ago, someone had suggested that Megan would be standing upon this battlefield awaiting the beginning of the Battle of the Black Gates, she would have filed a warning about them with the counselors. Now, she was pretty certain that anyone she met from Earth would do the same for her if she ever tried to describe this scene.

Aragorn had arranged his men upon two of the slag-hills, separated from the Black Gates by a marsh and a blackened plain that now seemed all too narrow. Megan and Sarah had been put with Gandalf and Aragorn upon one hill, and Imrahil and Eomer upon the other. The men stood in ranks upon the slopes and the ground between the hills and the marsh, Rohan and Gondor, cavalry and infantry all together.

Gandalf, Aragorn, the sons of Elrond, Eomer, Imrahil, Legolas and Gimli, and Pippin had all ridden forth to meet with the leaders of the Enemy forces. Megan could hear little of what they were saying, except for faint calls borne back to her by the foul-smelling wind.

Yet the answer of Mordor was clear, as the gates drew back with an ominous rumble. A small party came forth, though more forces were visible behind them. Megan felt a shudder run through her as she caught sight of the foremost rider; even this far away, she could sense the evil of this figure. It could only be one creature.

The Mouth of Sauron had come.

EVEN AS the Captains were about to turn away, the silence was broken suddenly. The middle door of the Black Gate was thrown open, and out of it there came an embassy from the Dark Tower.

At its head there rode a tall and evil shape, mounted upon a black horse, if horse it was; for it was huge and hideous, and its face was a frightful mask, more like a skull than a living head, and in the sockets of its eyes and in its nostrils there burned a flame. The rider was robed all in black, and black was his lofty helm; yet this was no Ringwraith but a living man. The Lieutenant of the Tower of Barad-dur he was, and his name is remembered in no tale; for he himself had forgotten it, and he said: "I am the Mouth of Sauron." Now halting a few paces before the Captains of the West he looked them up and down and laughed.

"Is there anyone in this rout with authority to treat with me?" he asked. "Or indeed with wit to understand me? Not thou at least!" he mocked, turning to Aragorn with scorn. "It needs more to make a king than a piece of elvish glass, or a rabble such as this."

Aragorn took the other's eye and held it, and for a moment they strove thus; but soon, though Aragorn did not stir nor move hand to weapon, the other quailed and gave back as if menaced with a blow. "I am a herald and ambassador, and may not be assailed!" he cried.

"Where such laws hold," said Gandalf, "it is also the custom for ambassadors to use less insolence. You have naught to fear from us, until your errand is done."

"So!" said the Messenger. "Then thou art the spokesman, old greybeard? This time thou hast stuck out thy nose too far, Master Gandalf; and thou shalt see what comes to him who sets his foolish webs before the feet of Sauron the Great. I have tokens that I was bidden to show to thee."

There to the wonder and dismay of all the Captains he held up first a short sword such as Sam had carried, and next a grey cloak with an elven-brooch, and last the coat of mithril-mail that Frodo had worn. A blackness came before their eyes, and it seemed to them in a moment of silence that the world stood still, but their hearts were dead and their last hope gone. Pippin who stood behind Prince Imrahil sprang forward with a cry of grief.

"Silence!" said Gandalf sternly; but the Messenger laughed aloud.

"So you have yet another of these imps with you!" he cried. "What use you find in them I cannot guess. Still, I thank him, for it is plain that this brat at least has seen these tokens before, and it would be vain for you to deny them now."

"I do not wish to deny them," said Gandalf. "But why do you bring them here?"

"Dwarf-coat, elf-cloak, blade of the downfallen West, and spy from the little rat-land of the Shire—here are the marks of a conspiracy. Now, maybe he that bore these things was a creature that you would not grieve to lose, and maybe otherwise; one dear to you, perhaps?"

He saw their faces grey with fear and the horror in their eyes, and he laughed again, for it seemed to him that his sport went well. "He was dear to you, I see. Or else his errand was one that you did not wish to fail? It has. And now he shall endure the slow torment of years, as long and slow as our arts in the Great Tower can contrive. This shall surely be—unless you accept my Lord's terms."

"Name the terms," said Gandalf steadily, but those nearby saw the anguish in his face. They did not doubt that he would accept.

"These are the terms," said the Messenger. "The rabble of Gondor and its deluded allies shall withdraw at once beyond the Anduin, first taking oaths never again to assail Sauron the Great in arms, open or secret. All lands east of the Anduin shall be Sauron's forever, solely. West of the Anduin as far as the Misty Mountains and the Gap of Rohan shall be tributary to Mordor, and men there shall bear no weapons, but shall have leave to govern their own affairs."

But Gandalf said: "This is much to demand for the delivery of one servant: that your Master should receive in exchange what he must else fight many a war to gain! Or has the field of Gondor destroyed his hope in war, so that he falls to haggling? And if indeed we rated this prisoner so high, what surety have we that Sauron the Base Master of Treachery will keep his part?"

It seemed then to Gandalf, intent, that for the taking of a breath the Messenger was at a loss; yet swiftly he laughed again.

"Do not bandy words in your insolence with the Mouth of Sauron!" he cried. "Surety you crave! Sauron gives none. If you sue for his clemency you must first do his bidding. These are his terms. Take them or leave them!"

"These we will take!" said Gandalf suddenly. He cast aside his cloak and a white light shone forth like a sword in that black place. Before his upraised hand the foul Messenger recoiled, and Gandalf coming seized and took from him the tokens. "But as for your terms, we reject them utterly. Get you gone, for your embassy is over and death is near to you. We did not come here to waste words in treating with Sauron, faithless and accursed; still less with one of his slaves!"

Then the Messenger of Mordor laughed no more. His face was twisted with amazement and anger. But he looked at the fell faces of the Captains and their deadly eyes, and fear overcame his wrath. He gave a great cry, and leaped upon his steed, and galloped madly back to Cirith Gorgor. But as they went his soldiers blew their horns in signal long arranged; and even before they came to the gate Sauron sprang his trap.

-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

THE MEETING over, Adrienne watched with a mixture of excitement and trepidation as the Lords of the West rode back to their army. Gandalf seemed to be carrying some things, but she couldn't be sure…

As soon as he was within earshot, Aragorn began shouting orders. The men surged into movement, taking their places atop the two hills of rocky debris. Erin and Adrienne managed to stay together, following the men around them to the left hill. There they were placed in the second row of men, facing towards the Black Gate and the oncoming army.

Once they were in place, Adrienne's horse began to snort and whicker nervously. Adrienne tried to calm him with soft pats and words, but the horse's anxiety was fed by the fear and anticipation of the company around him, and he would not be calmed.

Adrienne watched with mounting horror as the boundless ranks of Sauron's army approached, snarling and bellowing with hatred and bloodlust. She breathed a sigh of relief when they stopped at the great mire that stretched in front of the slag-hills, but it was short-lived. The foul creatures produced bows and crossbows and launched a hail of arrows into the men, several falling near enough to make Adrienne's heart skip a beat.

Caelef grew more nervous beneath her as the screams of injured men and horses rose up around them. Adrienne had no more time for soothing words, however.

Behind the Orcs came tall, lumbering creatures that made Adrienne's heart sink. Trolls. And these trolls looked very mean indeed, especially as they sloshed through the mire without pausing, bellowing wordless challenges at their enemies. They carried giant, hammer-shaped clubs that looked like they would hurt quite a bit when making contact with a human body.

The riders in front visibly braced themselves for the trolls' onslaught, as Adrienne offered a thank-you to the gods for stopping the hail of Orc arrows. Perhaps they didn't have good enough aim, and feared to hit the trolls; or maybe they couldn't see well enough around the bulky creatures. Whatever the reason, the lack of projectiles made the situation slightly less complicated.

But only slightly. Adrienne still had to worry about dodging a troll wielding a sledgehammer, while riding a skittish horse. The troll was near now, maybe twenty feet away, and closing fast. There was only one row of men between her and the beast, and Adrienne had a feeling that wouldn't be enough.

Dimly she registered the sounds of fierce clashes at other points along the line of defense. _Our troll is slow_, she thought with a slightly hysterical mental laugh. _Maybe that means he'll be easier to kill_.

Then the troll crashed into the line of men, a single great swipe of its club incapacitating nearly four men. Their horses reared, screaming in fear, and ran.

That was all it took. Caelef's eyes rolled as he raised up onto his hind legs, Adrienne clinging on for dear life. Then she saw the club, which the troll was swinging in a second strike headed straight for Adrienne. She let go of the reins, letting Caelef's momentum toss her backwards. The blow missed her narrowly, instead impacting sharply with the back of Caelef's neck. The horse screamed one last time as he went down in a heap, motionless.

Adrienne stood shakily, fighting back a scream as her ankle exploded in pain. So falling off her horse hadn't been the brightest idea. Around her men scattered, their terrified horses trying desperately to flee. Quickly Adrienne looked to her left: Erin was picking herself up off the ground, and Greda was nowhere in sight.

Adrienne heard a growl and glanced up, finding the troll mere feet away, regarding her angrily. With a start Adrienne noticed the club was again on a downward path toward her, an overhead strike that looked particularly powerful. She leaped backward, the club missing her by inches to bury itself deep in the rocky earth. Adrienne marveled at the power behind that stroke, and decided she really didn't want to know what would have happened if she hadn't dodged.

While the less-than-intelligent troll was occupied with freeing its club, Adrienne ran to Erin and hauled her friend to her feet. "You attack from this side, I'll attack from the other. Alternate the attacks to confuse him!" Adrienne yelled, and Erin nodded hurriedly, her face twisted in pain. Falling from a horse had probably hurt her even more than it had hurt Adrienne.

A growl behind her alerted Adrienne to the fact that the troll had freed its club. Time to put the plan into action.

Adrienne made a run for the troll's other side, while Erin darted in with the first attack to distract it. The troll turned to face her, snarling as it brought the club around in a wide arc. Erin leaped back, narrowly avoiding the blow.

Adrienne took the opportunity Erin gave her once she had reached the troll's broad back, driving her sword as deeply as she could into the coarse hide near the spine. She didn't think she was strong enough to actually damage the creature's spine, which was probably very thick.

The creature howled in pain, whirling to face her and wrenching the sword from her grip. _Shit…oh, dear God_, was Adrienne's only thought as she drew her knife, hoping against hope that it would be enough protection. It had worked for Aragorn, hadn't it? Or at least Viggo Mortensen…

The troll snarled and brought its huge club down in another overhead strike. Again Adrienne dodged, and the weapon was trapped in the earth. _You never learn, do you, stupid creature?_ She slashed at the troll's arm with her knife, but the tiny blade did little damage against the tough hide.

She was concentrating so hard on the troll's straining arm, she never saw the other coarse-skinned hand that reached down and grabbed her by the legs.

ERIN HEARD the troll's howl of pain, and saw the reason for it when the creature turned to face Adrienne. The sword in its back was embedded at least a foot deep. However, Erin quickly realized that the sword's presence in the troll's back meant that Adrienne was as good as unarmed; her little knife wouldn't harm it much.

She saw the troll raise his club in an overhead strike and waited for the club to strike the ground, confident in Adrienne's ability to dodge the blow. Once again, the troll managed to trap its weapon in the earth.

With Adrienne defenseless, Erin knew she had to do something soon. Her friend could only hold out against the troll's blows so long without a weapon to fight back.

Suddenly an idea came to her, and she sprang into movement. Sheathing her sword, she ran forward until she came to the troll's broad back, which was bent as it attempted to retrieve its club. Using her hands to steady her, she climbed quickly up to its neck, where she found a metal collar so dusty it seemed part of the troll's coarse hide. Even as she grabbed the collar with her left hand, the troll reared up, thrashing as it tried to dislodge the presence upon its back. Erin held on for dear life as she was tossed about, wrapping her legs around its throat in a stranglehold.

She saw with horror that as the troll had straightened, it had grabbed Adrienne by the feet, lifting her off the ground and swinging her around with one hand. With the other the troll attempted to reach Erin, its club forgotten in front of it. Erin knew she had to act soon, or the troll would manage to get ahold of her and her opportunity would be lost.

Putting all her strength and anger behind it, Erin drew her sword and plunged it into the back of the creature's neck. The troll paused its frantic movements, groaning in surprise. Erin took advantage of the pause and let go of the collar with her left hand, using both hands to drive the sword in farther.

At this the troll seemed to realize that it was dying, and resumed its attempts to dislodge her. As she let go of the sword and grabbed hold of the collar with both hands, Erin thought she saw Adrienne go flying, but she was being jerked about so fiercely that she put little trust in her vision. The troll's bellows were deafening as it took a single, stumbling step before falling to its knees. With a last, pitiful groan, it collapsed in death.

Just before it hit the ground Erin managed to jump off, rolling as she hit the ground. Her left side exploded in pain, and she forced back a scream. For a few dazed moments she lay where she fell, and then she heard Adrienne frantically calling her name. "Erin! Erin, are you all right? Erin!"

She raised her head, then put her arms beneath her and lifted her torso up, fighting to ignore the pain that ripped through her left side. _It's probably reopened_, a distant mental voice informed her. She paid it no heed, getting her legs under her and standing, albeit shakily. A moment's consideration was given to the pain lancing through her legs, telling her she had at the very least pulled some muscles, but then she turned her attention to Adrienne.

Adrienne was facing her with wide eyes, standing amongst a group of men, her hauberk long gone. The men were regarding her with open astonishment, but she ignored them, stumbling forward on legs that probably hurt far worse than Erin's. They hugged briefly, both mumbling reassurances and exclamations of relief. Then Erin drew back and looked at Adrienne critically. "Can you still fight?"

Adrienne nodded briefly. "Hell yeah, I can fight. No one troll is going to keep me away from battle!"

Erin rolled her eyes. "Let me rephrase this. Can you walk?"

Adrienne glared. "Yes. Let's go get our swords."

Erin looked back at the swamp, which the Orcs were swiftly detouring. "Yes, lets. I think we're going to need them soon."

AS THE trolls charged the front lines of the battle, a single thought repeated itself in Kavila's mind. _Oh my god, we're all going to die_. There were at least a dozen trolls, all just as big and fierce-looking as the cave troll from the Fellowship of the Ring. Behind them the Orcs were already looking for a way around the swamp that blocked their path, and the shrieks of the Nazgul pierced the sky. Sauron's army seemed to have no end, pouring out of the Black Gate and swarming over the plain like vicious ants.

At least three of the trolls were making directly for the middle part of the army, which was arrayed between the two hills. There Kavila and Lindir stood, with several rows of men between them and the approaching trolls. This, however, did not comfort Kavila. She remembered well the havoc that a single troll had been able to wreak in the Fellowship of the Ring…and now there were three, headed in her direction!

Lindir must have noticed her terror. "Do not fear, Kavila," he reassured her. "I am here, and will keep you safe. There are many men here who will help me."

Kavila was not reassured. The trolls were charging across the remaining distance, the earth shaking beneath their lumbering weight, their clubs raised high over their backs. As they reached the first line of men they brought the weapons down in wide arcs, sending men flying with the force of their blows. Kavila grabbed Lindir's arm and buried her face in his shoulder, wishing there were some way to stop the screams from reaching her ears.

Suddenly the men around her gave a shout of joy, and Kavila heard a familiar and welcome voice. "Fear not, my lady, I have come to protect you as I promised!"

Kavila raised her head, and there before her stood Legolas, bow in hand, golden hair streaming behind him as he let fly arrow after arrow at the hateful trolls. Two of the great creatures fell with his green-fletched arrows buried in their flesh, and he was aiming for a third when a paralyzing shriek rang out behind them.

Legolas whirled, an expression upon his face that Kavila had never before seen: fear. She too turned, and the sight that greeted her sent her tumbling into unconsciousness. Bearing down upon them, its dragonlike steed so close she could see the individual teeth in its hideous mouth, was one of the black Nazgul.

_I was right. We're all going to die_, was her last thought before darkness claimed her vision.

MEGAN watched with horror from her high vantage point atop the hill as the vast army of Sauron streamed out of the Black Gate and toward the Men of the West. The black tide was stopped only when it reached the marshlands that were the Men's only defense.

But the relief was short, as the hail of Orc arrows began to fall among the men. Megan cringed as soldiers throughout the army went down with shouts of pain. She marveled briefly at the range of the Orc bows, which were wounding men even many feet up the hillside.

Suddenly a soldier a few feet to her left fell, an Orc arrow embedded in his arm. Several of his fellow soldiers knelt next to him, but they could do little to help him. In vain they wished for bows with which to strike back at their enemies.

Megan was moving even before the man had hit the ground. Each scream from the soldiers pierced her heart and awakened in her a healer's desire to help. She could not stand by and watch as good men suffered needlessly.

Megan pushed her way through the ranks until she reached the man who had been injured. His friends looked up hopefully, but their faces fell when they saw the armor-dressed soldier coming towards them. "We need a healer!" one of the men called.

"I am a healer!" Megan replied as she reached them, ignoring the incredulous stares directed her way as the men realized she was a woman dressed for battle. She knelt to examine the wound, immediately realizing she would need to pull the arrow soon. It had been poisoned.

She didn't have time to search for someone with clean bandages. Tearing a piece of fabric from her cloak and cringing at its dirtiness, she prepared to pull the arrow. She looked up at the man once for confirmation, and he nodded. "Pull it."

Megan wasted no more time. She quickly removed the arrow, wincing as she saw the way the flesh was swelling and turning scarlet with infection. The poison was doing its work. She tied the improvised bandage as tightly as she dared, and met the soldier's eyes once more. His face was twisted in pain, but he nodded his thanks as she made to rise.

"Can you walk?" she asked him. When he looked at her quizzically, she continued. "I need to get you to the chief healer, who has the herbs for the Orc poison."

He nodded briefly, and struggled to his feet. Megan supported him as best she could, and they started off down the hill. The healers had been positioned in the center of the army, and that was where the medications would be.

Suddenly the volume of cries escalated and Megan heard the sound of metal clashing together: the sound of warfare. She looked toward the battlefront and saw several large trolls swinging hammer-like clubs in wide arcs, injuring four or five men at a time.

Megan turned away, concentrating on getting her charge to the healers. She could help tend to the other injured later—and from the looks of the battle, there would be many.

With a start she noticed Legolas's distinctive blond hair near the center of the army, where the healers were located. _But of course_, she thought with a smile. _Kavila is one of the healers_. Legolas was rapidly firing arrows at the trolls, and looked to be doing quite a bit of damage.

Megan was still several feet away when she sensed something and looked up. Her eyes went wide and she froze in her tracks: a Nazgul was coming, diving down out of the sky, headed straight for this part of the army. _Legolas_. He was inflicting grave injuries on the trolls, and the Nazgul was coming to do something about it.

The Nazgul shrieked in challenge as it leveled out of its dive, and the elven prince whirled. He hesitated only a second as the Nazgul glided closer, the sheer power of its wings knocking men back as they attempted to bring it down. The great bow of Lothlorien arched, and the arrow flew with unfaltering precision toward the slender, snakelike neck.

When the arrow hit it the Nazgul screamed again, this time in pain. But it had only thirty feet left before it would reach Legolas, and did not intend to back off until it had finished its task. Legolas didn't have enough time to shoot again, and he seemed to realize this, slinging his bow over his back and reaching for his knives.

He never drew them. Lightning-fast, a brown blur shot down from the sky, attaching itself to the Nazgul with a distinctive cry that Megan instantly recognized. Even as the new arrival disengaged from the foul beast and clawed its way to higher altitudes, a challenging cry ringing behind it, Megan heard Gandalf's voice calling, "The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!"

_A little late, Gandalf_, Megan thought. Her attention, however, was drawn outward again as the Nazgul wheeled from its attacker with a piercing cry and streaked toward the Black Gate. Sauron was calling them—to stop Frodo! Megan glanced up and saw the single Nazgul joined by several more, all bound toward Mount Doom.

She turned to look at Mordor, even as the sounds of warfare died away for a moment. The Orcs quailed, and the few trolls left stopped their assault as if they were listening for a call that did not come. Then the Men of the West, seeing their enemy's sudden fear, pressed forward with cries of challenge.

But once again Gandalf's voice rang out over the battlefield. "Stand, Men of the West! Stand and wait! This is the hour of doom!"

SARAH craned her head, trying to see the Black Gate from her position upon the side of the southern hill. She could hear Orcs, and the earth shook beneath the pounding of their feet. Then her ears picked up another sound, a bellowing roar she didn't recognize.

A huge, lumbering creature came around the side of the hill, wading through the army as if it were water and knocking them out of the way just as easily with its great club. _A cave troll_. And it was headed straight for her.

Beside her, Kalva sucked in a sharp breath. Sarah could almost see the wheels turning in his mind as he took several steps toward the troll. He couldn't stand the idea that his fellow solders were being injured and he was doing nothing to help them.

"Kalva, don't!" Sarah cried, reaching out to grab his arm and stop him from approaching the troll. At the rate it was going it would attack them eventually anyway.

"I cannot stand by!" he answered, wrenching his arm from her grip. He broke into a run, joining the circle of men that was forming around the troll. Sarah shook her head in exasperation and followed him. She had made a decision to stand at his side, and she wasn't going to abandon him now.

Just as she reached Kalva, the troll turned toward another part of the circle, presenting his left side to Kalva and Sarah. Kalva took the opportunity, darting toward the troll and slashing at its side. The troll bellowed, whirling, and Kalva's sword was wrenched from its skin. He managed to maintain a grip on it, and began to retreat back to the edge of the circle. He didn't look up, and didn't see the club coming straight for him.

"Kalva! Look out!" Sarah screamed, taking an involuntary step forward as the club neared Kalva's form.

Kalva glanced up, pausing only a moment before throwing himself to the side. He wasn't fast enough to avoid the blow; it glanced off his left arm, spinning him around once before he landed hard on the ground.

He didn't move.

Sarah stared for a few moments in utter shock, and then an empowering anger filled her. How dare that creature harm Kalva!

With a cry of fury Sarah charged the troll, all thoughts of fear driven from her mind by the image of that club hitting Kalva. Caution, however, she still had plenty of; she would be little help to Kalva if she got herself injured. As the club swung down toward her, Sarah threw herself forward, feeling the wind against the back of her head as the club barely missed her. She drove her sword as hard as she could into the underside of the troll's upper arm, feeling the muscles shudder as the pain shot through them.

The troll roared in pain as it registered the wound. Sarah used all her weight to free her sword from the troll's arm, throwing herself prostrate on the ground as the troll struck again with its club. Once again she leaped up and stabbed with her sword, this time in the wrist of the troll's other arm, severing the blood vessels there. As she once again pulled her sword from the troll's tough flesh, black blood flowed out in a torrent that she barely avoided.

The other soldiers had taken advantage of her attack to mount their own assault on the creature, hacking at its back and legs and driving their swords into its belly. With a last, agonized moan, the troll collapsed onto its back, several men scurrying out of the way just in time to avoid being crushed.

Sarah stared at the corpse for a few seconds, then turned and raced toward the place where she had last seen Kalva's crumpled form. _He's not dead…he can't be…he'll be sitting up and asking me what I was so worried about, it's just a broken arm…_Sarah thought as she frantically searched the battlefield for him.

Finally she caught sight of a slim, brown-haired form. Gently rolling the soldier over, she came face to face with Kalva's pale features. His eyes were still closed, and his left arm was bent at odd angles that Sarah tried not to notice.

Her heard pounding, she felt for his pulse. There! It was weak, but it was there! She put her ear to his mouth, and yes, he was breathing! For a few moments Sarah merely sat there, grinning in joy. Kalva was alive! Everything was all right.

Then she caught sight of his arm again. _He needs a healer_, Sarah thought. She shook his shoulder gently; it would be easier to move him if he was able to walk with support. But he did not awake.

Sarah jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," the soldier said. "You both fought well."

Sarah was confused for a few seconds. Sorry? For what? Then she realized how Kalva must look. "Oh, he's still alive! He's just unconscious. I need to get him to a healer."

There was a pause of several seconds as the man registered her feminine voice. Sarah looked up at him hopefully, and he seemed to shake himself. "I shall help you. Where must we go?" the man asked.

Sarah beamed. "To the center of the army. I know one of the healers there, and she can help us."

The man bent to pick Kalva up, carefully avoiding the broken arm. Then he nodded to Sarah, and she set off towards the center of the army. Sarah blocked out the sounds of fighting and the piercing cries of the Nazgul that invaded her ears as they flew over the field.

As they were coming over the hill one of the Nazgul's screams exploded in her ears, and a moment later the creature shot past her into the sky. The soldier beside her watched with wide eyes as a brown blur met the black creature in the air, screaming a familiar cry, followed by Gandalf's shout. "The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!"

A grin spread over Sarah's face as she realized the implications of that shout. The battle was nearly over. As if echoing her thoughts, Gandalf's voice rose again over the tumult of the battle. "Stand, Men of the West! Stand and wait! This is the hour of doom."

ERIN AND Adrienne stood together with the other soldiers, faces the very image of rapture. And even as they waited the ground beneath them began to toss and turn as if rocked by an earthquake, and the Towers of the Black Gate swayed and fell with a crash that sent up a storm of dust. The Gates collapsed as well, and behind them Erin saw a great darkness, like a bank of particularly vicious storm clouds, tower up suddenly in the sky, flickers of red fire appearing within the cloud. After a few moments of staring Erin realized what it was. "Adrienne! Look!" she pointed. "Mount Doom is erupting!"

Adrienne gasped and looked with her. "Thank the Valar!" she said in a voice quavering with emotion. Erin glanced at her friend, and saw that there were tears streaming down her face. With a start she noted that her own face was wet with tears of joy. She beamed at Adrienne, and Adrienne beamed back, reaching out to hug her. "He did it!" Erin whispered in Adrienne's ear. "Frodo did it!"

MEGAN watched with a vague, tired feeling of joy as the Black Gate collapsed in ruin. It was over. The battle was done, the Orcs already fleeing as the symbols of their leader's power crumbled before them. Megan was about to turn away, when movement within Mordor caught her eye. There was a great shadow building in the distance, forming into a vaguely human shape, lightning forming a flickering crown upon its head. It grew taller and taller, until Megan was certain it would pierce the clouds. An arm-like appendage branched from it, reaching closer and closer until it was directly over them. Megan looked up fearfully, unsure what horrors this shadow might send down upon them, but then a western wind came up and the shadow was dispersed. Sauron was truly destroyed, his realm demolished, his power dissipated like dust in the wind.

The Battle for Middle Earth was ended.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

THERE were a few moments of near silence, as every member of the army struggled to comprehend that the Nameless One, their enemy for centuries, had finally been overthrown. Eliminated. Reduced to a wisp of shadow blown away by the brisk north wind. For a few moments, time seemed to stop.

Then the silence was broken as a thousand anguished, fearful cries were torn from the throats of the Orcs, and a thousand joyful, victorious shouts went up from the Men of the West. Time lurched back into motion, as the once-terrible armies of Mordor fled blindly from the battlefield that had once seemed so surely theirs. A few sharp commands from their King, and several companies of Men triumphantly began pursuit.

Later Megan heard tales of that hunt, terrible stories of vengeful slaughter and brutal chases. She saw some results as well, men treated for horrible wounds that appeared as though inflicted by animals: gore-wounds and injuries of claws and teeth.

For now, Megan was content in the knowledge that the Orcs had fled, and would return no longer to fight battles such as this. Now there was work to be done. Many injuries had been received in these blackened lands. The hour of the soldier was over; now was the hour of the healer.

Megan quickly reached Lindir, still supporting the man who had been injured by the Orc arrow. Lindir saw her immediately, brows creasing in worry. "I'm not hurt," Megan hastened to reassure him. "This man was hit by a poisoned Orc arrow."

Lindir's frown deepened. "Come here, son," the old healer said, slinging the man's arm over his shoulders. "I'll get you patched up." He glanced back at Megan. "Lord Aragorn is ordering the pitching of camp. We need to set up a healing area, and we haven't enough tents."

Megan nodded. Turning, she ran back up the hill to where Aragorn and the other lords conversed quietly. She cleared her throat, and they turned sharply to regard her, hard gazes softening as they realized who had come. Gandalf, she noticed, was conspicuous in his absence.

She bowed respectfully, barely catching Aragorn's impatient nod as she straightened. "My lords, I can see that camp is being set up. Healer Lindir wishes me to ask where he might set the healers' tents and how he might acquire more to protect the wounded from the elements."

Aragorn frowned in thought. "Set them on the east side of camp," he said finally. "For other tents, I think that we will have little need of our command tent. It is large, and should hold many. The supply wagons may also carry some spare canvas."

Megan bowed again. "Thank you, my lord. I have wounded to tend to now, if you'll excuse me."

Aragorn smiled. "Of course, Lady Megan. I may join you later to lend my skills."

"They would be much appreciated, I'm sure, my lord." Megan replied with a quick smile. Then she turned and hurried back down the hill to Lindir to bring the news.

Lindir seemed pleased to hear it. "Good, 'tis close to the battlefield. We shall not have to go far, I think. And 'tis better that we may have Lord Aragorn's aid."

Then he called to those around him, and the group moved toward the camp which was being organized a mile or so down the road. Mnay unscathed soldiers supported or carried wounded comrades. Legolas cradled a still-unconscious Kavila in his arms.

Megan was surprised, however, to see Sarah among the group. She quickly moved to her friend's side, anxiety coiling in her stomach. Had Sarah been injured?

"Sarah!" Megan called when she was close enough for the girl to hear. "Are you hurt?"

Sarah glanced up hurriedly, then returned her gaze to the ground before her. "No," she replied slowly, almost dazedly. Megan visually checked for head injuries, but could see no trace of blood or bruise. Then Sarah's gaze left the ground briefly to wander behind her—and stayed. Megan followed her friend's stare and found herself looking at Kalva's unconscious form, being carried by some kind soldier. Now she understood Sarah's distractedness; she was concerned for Kalva. Megan suppressed a chuckle. Those two were _so_ in love.

"So what happened?" Megan asked. Sarah tore her gaze from Kalva and glanced at Megan, then concentrated on the road. In a soft voice she related the events leading to Kalva's injury, and her fear that he was dead.

"But he wasn't," she assured Megan in a tone that gave Megan the impression she was reassuring herself just as much. "He's alive, just unconscious."

Megan nodded thoughtfully, dropping back a pace to examine Kalva herself. He did not look good. His face was very pale, his breathing soft, his pulse shallow. Yet Sarah was right; he was alive.

Suddenly shouts went up at the head of the group as the camp came into sight. At Lindir's request, Sarah and Megan went ahead with a couple of other soldiers and set up the healing tents and command tent on the east side of camp, laying out blankets inside for the wounded men to be laid upon. They left just enough room between the pallets for someone to kneel, and sometimes less, squeezing as many as possible into the tents.

The pallets were filled as quickly as Sarah and Megan could lay them down, until all the men they had brought with them were housed as comfortably as might be. They continued to set out blankets, preparing for the wounded that were still to be brought, even as the cries of the injured rang in their ears.

As they laid out the last of the pallets that could be squeezed into the final tent, Megan could see that they would be short. There simply wasn't enough room for the stream of injured men that she knew was flowing into the camp even now.

Megan turned to Sarah to ask her advice, only to find her friend staring longingly at one of the tents where the wounded had already been placed. Megan smiled, placing a hand gently on her friend's shoulder, and stifling a laugh as Sarah jumped guiltily. "I…sorry, I—"

"—was thinking about Kalva," Megan finished for Sarah. She chuckled as Sarah blushed slightly. "Go ahead and find him. I can take care of the rest."

Sarah hesitated, though she obviously wanted to follow Megan's order. "Are you sure? I mean, I don't mind helping…"

"Of course you mind! You haven't said two words to me all the time we've been doing this. Your mind is obviously elsewhere." Megan retorted, laughing. "Now go!"

Sarah smiled a little and turned, the quickness of her pace as she made her way toward the first tent belying her earlier words. Megan shook her head and turned her thoughts to more serious problems—like the lack of tents and blankets. Then Aragorn's earlier words returned to her, and she remembered the supply wagons. Yes! Surely they would have some spare tents and blankets!

Within the wagons she found many spare blankets and a few tents, though not as many as Megan would have liked. Still, they would do for now. She gathered up three of the tents, canvas and stakes, and made her way back to the cluster of tents that was the healing area.

Megan was just turning to return to the cart for more tents when her path was blocked by several tall men, plainly dressed, though armored well-enough. The only insignia they bore was a brooch shaped as a silver star.

"Um…hello?" Megan said, discomforted by their sudden and soundless appearance.

The foremost bowed slightly to her. "I am Dregor, a Ranger of the Dunedain. Are you the healer Megan?"

Megan nodded slowly, only further confused by his words. What would a Ranger of the Dunedain want with her? "I am. Are you in need of healing?"

"Nay, we are not. We come instead with aid for you. We heard that you had need of tents for the wounded, and would give you ours," Dregor answered, smiling.

For a moment Megan was speechless with surprise. "Yes, well, I…we do need them, sir, and we would appreciate it very much. But I wouldn't want to trouble you…"

"Rest assured, you do not. We are Rangers of the cold North, and are quite used to living without cumbersome tents." Dregor answered.

Megan sighed. As she had said, the tents were sorely needed. "How many may we expect?"

"As many as you need," Dregor replied. "The entire Grey Company offers you their tents, and that is three score."

"We may need them before nightfall," she said finally. "But how can you make such a claim, sir?"

Dregor smiled. "I am the Dunedain lieutenant, second only in command to our lord, King Aragorn. I have spoken with my men, and they offer this aid willingly."

Megan took a deep breath, pushing past her astonishment and gratitude to think the matter through. "If it is not an inconvenience, then, I think it would be best for you and your men to set the tents up now. It will be better to have too many than too few. Already the space we have is nearly gone, and I think the flood of wounded will only grow."

"Such is the way of war. It brings naught but pain and sorrow, and leaves widows and orphans in its wake." Dregor remarked, and then sighed. "I shall inform my men." He was about to turn away when Megan grabbed his arm suddenly.

"I…I don't think I've said thank you yet," she said finally.

Dregor merely smiled. "It will be thanks enough to know that more men may recover to return to their lands and families. I would like to think that others would do the same for me and my men if it were we who needed shelter as we healed." With that, he turned and was gone. Smiling for the first time in many hours, Megan returned to the supply wagons for the rest of the spare tents.

She was close to her destination when a familiar voice called her name. She stopped and turned to find Legolas, still covered with the dirt and grime of battle, jogging easily to catch up with her. "Do you need any aid?" he asked as she turned again, resuming her journey to the supply wagons. She was about to decline his offer when she stopped, considering. She had been called a healer many times this day, but had done very little as of yet to warrant it. She longed to be done with this task of setting up facilities so that she might tend to the wounded whose cries she could hear so clearly, even here. "Actually," she said, turning to Legolas thoughtfully, "you can finish setting up these tents. Put as many blankets inside for the men as you can comfortably fit, with room for healers to do their work. Oh, and the Rangers have donated their tents, so if you see them setting up tents, that's what's going on."

"What will you do, Lady Megan?" Legolas asked as he pulled a tent from the wagon.

"I'm going to go help Lindir." Megan replied, turning and making her way quickly back towards the tents.

"A healer at heart," Legolas murmured, smiling.

THE FIRST thing Kavila noticed when she awoke was the sounds: people moaning and crying out, others murmuring reassurance, and a few calling for various supplies for healing. It did not take her long to figure out that she was lying in the healing tent.

Kavila opened her eyes to find her suspicions confirmed. She was stretched out on a blanket in an isolated corner of the tent. The rest of the tent space was occupied by injured men: some of Gondor, some Rohan, and some unmarked.

The battle must have ended, she realized with a thrill of relief. Her last memory was the gaping, tooth-filled maw of the Nazgul's steed, bearing down upon Legolas. She felt a brief pang of worry…had Legolas survived? But of course he had, because he didn't die in the book, and thus far the book was going exactly like the movie.

She glanced around her, not recognizing any of the men near her. They did not appear to be badly injured; she must have been placed in one of the tents where the men with non-life-threatening wounds were kept, rather than the loud and chaotic tent for the seriously injured.

She may not have had the skill and knowledge to tend the critically wounded, but she could certainly be of use here. She sat up, pausing to make certain there was no dizziness, and then rose fully.

The man at her feet cried out, seeing her. "Lady," he moaned, "please, some drink!" He had a slash wound in his leg; not potentially fatal, but certainly painful.

Kavila knelt at his side. "A drink of water? I will get it for you." She was about to stand up when she felt a weak grip on her hand; the man held on even when she gently attempted to extract her fingers. She tried to catch his gaze to warn him that she must leave to retrieve the water, only to find his head turned away. "Sir," she began, trying to get his attention, but he ignored her. Exasperated, she followed his gaze to a pack lying against the tent wall—with a waterskin next to it! The waterskin was out of his reach, and had probably been sitting there for hours. Kavila quickly retrieved it and, supporting the soldier's head, she let him drink. When he turned his head away to indicate he was finished, she closed the waterskin and placed it near at hand. She glanced again at the man's wound; it looked terribly painful, though it did not seem infected yet.

"Sir, I'll be right back, but I need to get supplies to close that wound up," she said, and the man smiled his thanks.

She rose and returned the smile, then hurried out of the tent. She hadn't gone more than three steps when she collided with someone else. Terrified she had bumped into a wounded soldier she looked up, a flood of apologies on the tip of her tongue, to find Megan staring back at her.

"Megan! Kavila!" they exclaimed at the same time, and Kavila laughed with joy to see her friend unharmed.

"Did you just wake up?" Megan asked.

"Yeah. I was coming to get some healing supplies to take care of the men in my tent." Kavila answered.

Megan stooped to the ground briefly, gathering the items she had dropped in the collision. "Well I just happen to have some," she said. "Lindir gave me this cool belt that I can put all my stuff on. See?" Megan displayed the belt like a model. "I've already put all my herbs on it."

Kavila grinned. "That is such a good idea! You're so smart!"

Megan laughed. "I didn't come up with it, Lindir gave it to me. He's working in the tent with the really badly injured people."

"Well the people in here aren't badly injured, but they're still in pain and need help," Kavila said. "Come on, you can help me."

"I was already headed here," Megan said as they entered. "I was going to check on you and then see what I could do in here."

First they went to the soldier whom Kavila had helped, and then the two worked their way systematically around the tent. They soon established a system: Megan, who was good with the herbs, mixed them while Kavila cleaned and sometimes stitched the wounds. She had a sure hand, and her patients rarely complained while she worked. When the medicines had been concocted Megan applied them and Kavila bound the wounds. They worked quickly and efficiently, speaking only when needed, falling into a repetition that lulled them into such intense concentration that it was almost a trance. When they finished tending the last man in the tent both nearly ran into the canvas wall, so caught up were they in their routine. They looked at each other, sharing soft smiles of relief and personal contentment at having done such good. They looked back at the other occupants of the tent, perhaps eighty men, most sleeping under the effect of painkillers, and then Kavila sighed. "On to the next tent."

"Not quite," said Megan. "I need to get more herbs. I'm running out, especially the painkillers."

"You go do that. I'll talk to Lindir and tell him we've finished this tent. I'll find out where he wants us to go." Kavila said, and Megan nodded. "Good idea. Let's go."

When they reached the main tent Megan nodded to Kavila and made her way toward the supply wagons nearby to collect her herbs. Kavila took a deep breath and stepped into the tent to find Lindir. She was immediately assaulted with a wave of heat, the air tinged with the scent of sweat, blood, and sickness. Sound followed after; it was must louder here than the other tent, for the men were more gravely injured and suffered more pain.

A call not of pain but of urgency attracted Kavila's attention. "Water! I need warm water!" cried a familiar voice. In a corner of the tent Lindir had set up a surgeon's table where he now stood, finishing what appeared to be an amputation. The man whose leg had been amputated was no longer conscious, and Kavila experience a vague sense of relief that she had not witnessed the process. Cutting off a man's leg, even for healing purposes, was too similar to violent warfare for her comfort.

As Kavila picked her way among the wounded men to the surgeon's table, she was surprised to see Sarah bring the needed pail of water. Lindir quickly washed his hands of the man's blood and set about bandaging the stump. Kavila moved to Sarah's side as she waited for Lindir to finish his task.

"So, is Kalva all right?" she asked lightly.

Sarah glanced up, as though she had not noticed Kavila at her side. "Oh, yes. Yes, the healers said that he wouldn't wake for some time, but his arm should heal and they didn't think there would be lasting damage."

Kavila smiled. "That's good. I bet you're glad."

"Very," Sarah answered softly as Lindir finally turned from his work. "Kavila!" he exclaimed. "Have you come to take your friend's place as my assistant?"

"If you need me to," Kavila answered, smiling. "But I think Sarah's doing just fine, and Megan and I are needed elsewhere."

"Where is Megan?" Lindir asked. "I sent her to work in another tent, and have not seen her since."

"She and I worked together. We got everyone in that tent—" Kavila pointed, "treated. I just wanted to see if there was somewhere specific you wanted us to go next."

"No, no, as long as you continue your work treating the lesser injuries, you are working where you are needed. I am afraid I cannot be spared from my work here; there are many badly injured men who need constant care," Lindir said.

Kavila gave Lindir a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, we'll take care of it."

Suddenly Kavila heard her name called. Legolas was making his way towards her, Megan at his side. Kavila felt a brief thrill of relief and something else run through her to see that he was uninjured. "My lord healer, ladies," he greeted them, "'tis good to see all of you well. How is Kalva, Lady Sarah?"

Once again, Sarah explained that Kalva would recover. "And I see that Lady Kavila has recovered from her fright," he remarked, while Kavila glared balefully and thanked her dark skin. "But tell me, I have not seen Lady Erin and Lady Adrienne. How do they fare?"

Kavila's eyes went wide. "I forgot about Warford and Adrienne!" she exclaimed.

"It's okay," Megan said. "We were very busy working with the wounded—"

Kavila cut her off, addressing Legolas. "I want you to find them and bring them back here. Drag them if you have to. No doubt their injuries opened up during the fight, or they got new ones, and they're just too stubborn to get healed. They _will_ be treated, if I have to do it myself! And I'll be chewing them out the entire time!"

Legolas hid a smile. "Yes, my lady," he bowed, then left. Kavila watched him go, muttering angrily under her breath. "Those stupid, retarded…people!" she ended, for lack of a better curse. "First they sneak into the army to go to the battle, then they fight and probably get hurt, then they decide not to come to the healers! Morons!"

Megan laid a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe they're in one of the healing tents we haven't visited yet. I'm ready to go start working again."

Kavila snorted, not sharing Megan's confidence in her friends' good sense. "All right, let's—"

"Healer! Healer, quickly!" came a gruff voice from the tent opening. Megan and Kavila looked up hurriedly to see Gandalf, white robes glowing in the dark tent, cradling a small, filthy form clad in rags. They sprinted forward, then stopped to see the expression on the boyish face of Gandalf's charge: creased with premature lines etched by a pain so profound it transcended the physical, and yet strangely content—he almost seemed to be smiling a little. Kavila was overcome for a moment with an overwhelming mixture of joy, gratitude, and sorrow as she regarded Frodo. Joy, that she was truly seeing the hobbit; gratitude, that he had destroyed the Dark Lord and ended this horrible war; and sorrow, that a creature so small and young-seeming would have his innocence torn so cruelly from him by that terrible responsibility.

Then Megan spoke next to Kavila, breaking her out of her emotional trance. "Follow me, my lords, and we'll get Frodo and Sam into a tent where they can be treated." She set off at a brisk pace which Kavila matched, noticing that Aragorn carried a second small form just behind Gandalf whose condition was just as pitiful.

Megan led them to a tent which had been placed at a far corner of the healing area. She quickly ducked inside, motioning Kavila in after her. "Let's put two blankets in the center for the hobbits and another over here for someone to stay near them. I think Aragorn's going to be tending them, and somehow I think he might find it difficult to return to his tent when he's done." Together the two girls quickly rearranged the tent space before stepping out and bowing to the gathered lords.

Gandalf went inside first, and Aragorn after. Aragorn looked out briefly to call for warm water and a brazier of coals. Gandalf did not reappear. Once his supplies were brought, Aragorn too disappeared.

Finally Megan spoke. "Come on you guys, I don't think they're coming out for awhile. We should get back to healing."

Kavila nodded silently. She would have dearly loved to know how Aragorn healed those poor, half-dead hobbits. But Megan was right; there were others who needed their help.

As they turned to walk back they noticed Lindir, standing unobtrusively behind them. "Lindir? I didn't know you'd come with us!" Kavila exclaimed.

Lindir smiled slightly. "You both appeared to know what needed to be done. I did not wish to impede you." He paused for a moment. "You seem to know a great deal more than the rest of us about the things that have happened here. Pray tell, who were those two _perian_ that Lord Gandalf whisked away so quickly?"

Megan and Kavila shared sidelong glances. Megan answered slowly, considering each word. "It's a long story, and I'm sure you'll hear it soon enough. But basically, you know how Sauron died and the Nazgul left and his army ran away?" Lindir's aged head nodded slowly as he tried to connect what Megan was saying. "Those two hobbits caused it all." Megan finished.

"How?" Lindir asked, brow crinkling in disbelief.

"Like I said it's a long story. It should wait until we have time to spare. But don't let appearances deceive you; even the smallest person can change the future," Megan said with a chuckle. She was starting to sound like Erin.

Lindir nodded again. "You speak rightly. I shall return to the main tent."

"We'll do that one," Megan said, pointing to the command tent-turned-hospital. Kavila followed Megan silently, her mind still partly on the tiny hobbits who had given and accomplished so much.

BACK inside their tent, Erin lay back on her blanket with a groan as pain shot through her side. Her wound had definitely re-opened; the blood was sticky and warm against her side. Yet even the ripping agony in her side could not wipe the grin from her face. "God, I still can't believe this is happening," she said finally.

From her side of the tent Adrienne chuckled. "I know. We actually saw Sauron fall."

"Do you know how much money people back in our world would pay to have been there?" Erin asked.

"Millions," Adrienne answered, laughing. "I would have given millions, if I had it to give."

"Yeah." Erin said, her mind wandering back through the battle and the display that had followed it. "Did you see the way those Gates fell?"

Adrienne's expression turned distant. "And Sauron's last reach—and the way the wind just came up and blew it away."

Erin laughed with joy that she had seen it all, but her mirth turned to a groan as agony shot through her side. Adrienne's smile diminished.

"How bad is it?" she asked in a sympathetic tone as she scooted across the tent floor to sit beside Erin.

Erin grimaced. "Pretty bad, I think. God, it hurts…and it's reopened."

Adrienne sighed. "I'd better take a look."

"Have you got any more herbs?" Erin asked.

"Yeah. Not much in the way of painkillers, but you can have it. I've got plenty of stuff to dress our wounds, though." Adrienne answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh no you don't, you unselfish thing. You take the pain medicine. You need to be able to walk." Erin said, shaking her head.

Now it was Adrienne's turn to grimace. "I don't think I'll be walking much for awhile."

That caught Erin's attention. "That bad? You tend yourself first. I'll be all right."

"No, no, I'll get you done." Adrienne countered.

Erin sighed, exasperated. She didn't have the energy to argue. "Fine. I still think we should have gone to the healers."

"I can handle it. They'll be busy enough." Adrienne said. "Besides, I don't think I could have made it to the healers."

Erin looked at her critically. "We passed them on the way here. Adrienne, are you _sure_ you're okay?"

Adrienne winced inwardly at her blunder. She'd been so absorbed in staying on her feet as they returned to their tent that she hadn't noticed her surroundings. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. I just need to rest—I'm tired as hell."

"I can tell." Erin remarked sarcastically. "You go sleep. Give me the compress and I'll bind my wound. I think I can do it."

"Not a good idea. We have to get this done well. I don't want that injury getting infected." Adrienne answered. She quickly prepared the poultice, having had a week of practice, and prepared herself for the worst as she removed Erin's clothing and bandages.

Erin shifted uncomfortably as Adrienne peeled off her tunic, with only a bandage covering her torso. Adrienne regarded her exasperatedly. "Erin, please. Sit still. It's not like I haven't seen it all before. It's just us girls." Erin's face turned very red, but she sat still.

Adrienne's breath hissed in sympathy when she finally uncovered the open wound. The amount of blood on the bandages had confirmed Erin's suspicion that the wound had reopened, but as Adrienne found, it had not only reopened; it had been torn further by the thrashing of the troll. Trying to avoid thinking about the pain she was causing her friend, she cleaned and bound the wound with clean cloth, applying the poultices in such a way as to help stem the blood flow. She was about to start on her own wound when the tent flap was drawn back.

Erin squeaked and made a grab for her tunic, which she managed to cover herself with just as the intruder looked up to meet her wide eyes. "Ah…ah! My apologies, Lady Erin, Lady Adrienne," Legolas nodded to each of them. "I did not mean to…interrupt anything."

Erin bowed her head as her cheeks flamed, while Adrienne raised an eyebrow. "I was binding her wound, my lord prince."

Legolas laughed. "My apologies nonetheless. I should have identified myself."

"Yes. Yes, you should have." Erin muttered, her gaze still on the ground.

Adrienne chuckled. "If you'll step outside briefly, I'll let you know when we're presentable." Legolas nodded and stepped out.

Erin was torn between glaring after Legolas and glaring at her friend. She settled on glaring at the ground some more, though it really had done nothing to earn her dislike—except, perhaps, for being so hard when she landed on it during the battle.

"Come on," Adrienne was holding up her tunic. "We don't want to keep Legolas too long."

Erin sighed, but she worked the tunic back on, despite frequent and painful protests from her injured side. When it was securely in place Adrienne raised herself onto her knees and reached for the tent flap, carefully keeping pressure off her ankles. "All right, Legolas, you can come in now."

He stepped in silently, smiling. "Why are you here, Legolas?" Adrienne asked abruptly and rather rudely. But she was tired and in pain, and wanted to get on with what she needed to do before she rested.

"I was sent by Lady Kavila." The elven prince drew himself up and spoke, in a surprisingly good imitation of Kavila despite his lower voice, "I want you to find them and bring them back here. Drag them if you have to. No doubt their injuries opened up during the fight, or they got new ones, and they're just too stubborn to get healed. They _will_ be treated, if I have to do it myself! And I'll be chewing them out the entire time!"

Erin could not repress her laughter, despite the pain it caused. Adrienne was in a similar state, nearly rolling on the floor with mirth. "Oh my god," she gasped finally. "Legolas, that was hilarious!"

Erin stopped laughing first, not wanting to cause herself any more pain. "Right then. That settles it. Let's go," she said. "I wouldn't want Kavila to worry any more than she has to."

Adrienne looked up quickly in protest. "Erin! We don't need to go to the healers! They've got more than enough to deal with, and our wounds aren't that serious."

Erin rolled her eyes. "Who said that they wouldn't be walking much for awhile? And besides, you said yourself we haven't got much painkiller. I think that's all that's going to get me through the next few days."

"I'm not going anywhere." Adrienne said stubbornly.

"Not on your own feet, no," Erin replied. "And before I didn't push the issue because I couldn't carry you myself. But now that Legolas is here—"

"I will _not_ be carried!" Adrienne interrupted. Erin rolled her eyes and looked pleadingly at Legolas. Legolas nodded slightly to show he had understood and whisked Adrienne into his arms before she could protest.

"What? Legolas, no! Put me down! Erin!" Adrienne cried as Legolas maneuvered her out of the tent and into the daylight. Erin put her helm on and followed after, gritting her teeth against the pain of rising to her feet. "ERIN!" came the indignant cry from the region of Legolas' shoulder. Erin just grinned. "The healers are always the worst patients," she remarked to Legolas as she caught up with him, ignoring the groan of annoyance from Adrienne. He chuckled in agreement.

As they walked toward the healers' tents Erin noticed an increasing number of eyes turning to regard them, drawn by her feminine voice and the easy way she spoke with the elven prince. Suddenly a desire welled up within her to take off her helm and do away with the secrecy that had plagued her for a week. At first it had been fun to escape into the army like little children sneaking out of the house, but now it was becoming extremely annoying to constantly wonder if she might be giving herself away through her actions or words.

With a sudden movement she tore the helm from her head and shook her hair loose, a smile spreading across her face as she felt the cool north wind ruffle her hair. She laughed out loud as Legolas did a double take when he glanced back at her during the course of the conversation. He smiled a little as he turned his attention back to the road, though his talk did not waver for a moment. Erin could almost hear the whispers swelling around her as she joked with the elven prince, combing through her long hair with her fingers, but she didn't care anymore.

Legolas led them to the entrance of the first healing tent they reached, which Erin recognized with a jolt as the command tent. She said as much to Legolas. "There was a greater need for healing space," he replied as they ducked inside. "This is one of the tents for those less injured. The tent for the grievously wounded is there," he pointed back out across the lane.

Erin tried to avoid looking at the men they passed as Legolas led them to two unoccupied pallets. The soldiers here may have had lesser injuries, but some were still gruesome in appearance. Instead she scanned the room for a healer, hoping to get Adrienne treatment as soon as possible. She finally caught sight of two figures bent over a man only a couple of rows away from the empty pallet Legolas was laying Adrienne down on. As the figures straightened, finished with their work, Erin realized she knew them. It was Kavila and Megan! Erin felt a mix of joy and anxiety. They were obviously unhurt, but soon enough they would work their way to where Erin and Adrienne lay, and then Kavila would launch into one of her rants in a tone that everyone in the tent could hear. Erin lay back with a sigh on her own blanket and asked Legolas about his role in the battle, deciding she might as well enjoy whatever time she had left.

MEGAN straightened, the muscles in her back aching with the constant stress of bending over to tend the injured. She glanced briefly at the rest of the tent; they had perhaps ten patients left to go. Then they could rest and catch a bite to eat, as it was long past noon and she had eaten nothing since morning, as her stomach so insistently reminded her.

Next to her Kavila groaned as she rose, obviously sore as well. Megan gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "We're almost done," she said reassuringly. "Only ten or so left, and then we'll get lunch." Kavila nodded wordlessly and moved on to the next patient, her face drawn with weariness.

Suddenly Kavila stopped, her tiredness and pain forgotten as she realized who lay on the next pallet. Megan nearly stumbled over her. "What—" she started to say, and then she too looked down. For a moment she was speechless. "Adrienne?" she said finally. The girl opened her eyes and laughed softly. "Hello Megan."

"What about me?" Kavila exclaimed, her tone indicating an impending tirade. Adrienne started to answer, but she was cut off. "You—both of you—" Kavila gestured at the next blanket, where Erin rested. "are going to be the death of me! Where have you been? And why didn't you come here in the first place!

"Hello to you too, Kavila," Erin replied as if Kavila had said nothing. " I'm glad to see you're doing all right after your bout with the Nazgul."

Kavila's voice lowered to a deadly tone. "Who told you?" she asked.

Erin grinned. "Legolas. You just missed him. You know, he does a very good imitation of you. I'd have asked him to show you if he hadn't left."

"I'm crushed." Kavila retorted sarcastically.

Erin smirked. "I'm sure you are."

"Shut up, Warford!" Kavila sputtered. "I'm going to heal Adrienne first, just for that!"

"Good," Erin replied, and Kavila raised her eyebrows. "Adrienne already took care of me, but she needs attention. Her ankles are messed up. Besides, it's her fault we didn't come here first. She insisted she could take care of us just fine, and then when we got back she admitted she didn't have much pain medication and couldn't walk anymore."

From the other pallet Adrienne cried. "Erin's wound is worse! She needs stitches!"

Megan rolled her eyes. "Come on, Kavila, let's take care of Adrienne."

"Why me first?" Adrienne asked angrily, ignoring Erin's smirk of triumph.

"Because you're being so insistent that you don't need healing." Megan retorted as she removed the first boot, ignoring Adrienne's muffled cry of pain. "Which probably means your wound is quite bad and you just don't want us to know."

Despite consistent grumbling from Adrienne her boots were soon gone. Megan examined her ankles critically, moving and pressing to see where the pain was located. Though Adrienne had received no wound in her right leg, she had admitted to pain in both, and Megan surmised that muscles had been damaged. Being a cross country runner, she had some idea of how to identify and treat those injuries. While Megan was busy with the right leg Kavila unbound and cleaned the wound in Adrienne's left ankle.

"It's reopened," she announced in a tone that signified an imminent rant.

"Of course it's reopened!" Erin exclaimed from her blanket, ignoring the warning look Adrienne sent her. "That troll flung her around in the air by her ankles!"

"Troll! What troll?" Kavila asked. Erin gave an account of their battle while Kavila re-bound Adrienne's ankle. "Are you telling me that, despite the fact you were both already injured and had been thrown from your horses, you took on one of those ten-foot-tall trolls!" Kavila exclaimed when Erin was finished.

"Yep. And killed it." Erin declared proudly.

Kavila sputtered for a moment, then threw up her hands. "You're both insane!"

"And proud of it!" Erin and Adrienne said together, breaking into peals of laughter.

"Hold still!" Megan broke in irritably from Adrienne's feet, though a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Finally she met Adrienne's gaze. "I think you've only sprained your ankles, but they're going to be very painful for awhile, and you're going to have to stay off them for a couple of weeks at least."

Adrienne groaned but nodded. She had been in athletics before, and knew a sprained ankle was nothing to mess with, especially two of them. But goddamnit, she hated being bedridden!

Then Megan and Kavila moved on to Erin. Despite her protests that all she needed was painkillers, they unwrapped the bandages and examined the wound. "It's bigger!" Kavila said accusingly.

Erin sighed a little. "Yes, I know it got torn. Staying on a troll's back when he's trying to dislodge you can do that. It'd be a challenge for even the best cowboy, I'd think."

"You didn't have to do it yourself, moron!" Kavila retorted.

"What, kill the troll? When Adrienne had given me such a good opening and had put herself in such great danger? You think I'd let somebody else take care of that?" Erin said.

"Yes!" Kavila answered. "I would have!"

Erin rolled her eyes. "We all know you would have." She put on her best imitation of Kavila. "Oh my god! That troll's about to kill my friend! But I can't do anything, I might hurt it!"

Kavila turned to Megan. "Needle and thread, please," she asked through clenched teeth. Erin looked vaguely worried as Megan handed them over.

"What's that for?" she asked.

Kavila snickered. "I get to stitch up your wound," she said, doing her best evil laugh.

"I take back everything!" Erin said quickly.

Kavila stopped and looked at her incredulously. "I couldn't _actually_ hurt you, Warford!" She began the first stitch.

Erin grimaced. "Anyone got a nice, big dose of painkiller on them right about now?"

Kavila raised her eyebrows, keeping her gaze on the needle. "You get a wound like this, and you need painkiller for stitches?"

"I can't stand the feeling of that needle," Erin answered. "And besides, it's not a nice, fine needle like they use in our world."

"You have my complete sympathy," Adrienne called. Her dislike of needles was almost a phobia. "I'm going to make a point of avoiding wounds that require stitches."

"Good luck with that," Erin answered.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

OVER the city of Gondor doubt and great dread had hung. Their lord was dead and burned, dead lay the King of Rohan in their citadel, and the new king that had come to them in the night was gone again to a war with powers too dark and terrible for any might or valour to conquer. And no news came.

When the captains were but two days gone, the Lady Eowyn bade the women who tended her to bring her raiment, and she would not be gainsaid, but rose; and she went to the Warden of the Houses of Healing.

"Sir," she said. "I am in great unrest. Is there no deed to do? Who commands in this city?"

"I do not rightly know," he answered. "Such things are not my care. The Lord Faramir is by right the Steward of the City."

"Where can I find him?"

"In this house, Lady. He was sorely hurt, but is now set again on the way to health. But I do not know—"

"Will you not bring me to him? Then you will know."

The Lord Faramir was walking alone in the garden of the Houses of Healing, and the sunlight warmed him; but his heart was heavy. And coming, the warden spoke his name, and he turned and saw the Lady Eowyn of Rohan; and he was moved with pity, for he saw that she was hurt, and his clear sight perceived her sorrow and unrest.

"My lord," said the Warden, "here is the Lady Eowyn. She was sorely hurt, and dwells now in my keeping. But she is not content."

"Do not misunderstand him, lord," said Eowyn. "It is not lack of care that grieves me. I looked for death in battle. But I have not died, and battle still goes on."

"What would you have me do, lady?" said Faramir. "I also am a prisoner of the healers." He looked at her, and being a man whom pity deeply stirred, it seemed to him that her loveliness amid her grief would pierce his heart. And she looked at him and saw the grave tenderness in his eyes, and knew that here was one whom no Rider of the Mark would outmatch in battle.

"I would have you command this Warden, and bid him let me go," she said.

"I myself am in the Warden's keeping," answered Faramir. "Nor have I yet taken up my authority in the City. But had I done so, I should still not cross his will in matters of his craft, unless in some great need."

"But I do not desire healing," she said. "I wish to ride to war like Theoden the king, for he died and has both honor and peace."

"It is too late, lady, to follow the Captains, even if you had the strength," said Faramir. "You and I, we must endure with patience the hours of waiting."

She did not answer, but as he looked at her it seemed to him that something in her softened, as though a bitter frost were yielding at the first faint presage of Spring. Her proud head drooped a little. "But the healers would have me lie abed seven days yet," she said. "And my window does not look eastward."

Faramir smiled. "If you will stay in this house in our care, lady, and take your rest, then you shall walk in this garden in the sun, and you shall look east. And here you will find me, walking and waiting. It would ease my care if you would speak to me, or walk at whiles with me."

"How should I ease your care, my lord?" she said.

"In the valleys of our hills there are flowers fair and bright, and maidens fairer still; but neither flower nor lady have I seen till now in Gondor so lovely, and so sorrowful. It would ease my heart, if while the sun yet shines, I could see you still."

And she did him a courtesy and walked back to the house. But Faramir for a long while walked alone in the garden, and his glance now strayed rather to the house than the eastward walls.

-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

TWO WEEKS later, Erin strolled beneath the proud trees of Ithilien. A fleet of ships had arrived several days before, bringing supplies and fresh men to help crush the remnants of Sauron's army. Aragorn had ordered the camp moved several miles south into the reclaimed land of Ithilien to meet the ships.

Erin fully approved of the change. The land of Ithilien was truly breathtaking, from the smallest flower hidden in the lush undergrowth to the cathedral-like groves that arched toward the cloudless skies. She could spend hours here—and indeed she had, since she had recovered enough of her strength to leave her bed.

She breathed the cool April air deeply, letting the wind play with her cloak behind her. Within the ships had been extra clothes for the men who had ruined them in battle, and she had managed to find a few garments that fit her decently. Thus she was clothed in a black tunic and dark green leggings, though she went barefoot upon the ground. The weather was not too cold, and the grass was delightfully soft against the soles of her feet.

Suddenly the narrow path ahead of her disappeared, as the avenue between the trees widened into a sunlit grove. Erin glanced briefly at her watch, noting that it was ten minutes before noon. Good—she was early.

She sank down among the ankle-length grasses, savoring the sweet scent as it drifted up around her. The warm rays of the sun caressed her hair, lulling her towards a peaceful doze.

She was nearly asleep when she became aware of approaching footsteps along the path. A few moments later Adrienne stepped into the clearing, a covered basket at her side. Erin smiled at her as she joined Erin upon the ground. "It's a beautiful day," Adrienne commented.

Erin nodded. "Not a cloud in the sky." Indeed they had been gifted with beautiful weather since Sauron's fall—perfect for Erin and Adrienne's plans. They sat in silence for many minutes, listening as a joyous birdsong rose all about them.

A low, grumbling noise broke the dreamlike quiet. The girls looked at each other and laughed. "It was your stomach!" Erin giggled.

"No, it was yours!" Adrienne retorted. The growling came again, and this time there was no mistaking its source. Erin grinned. "I confess. Now what've you got in that basket?"

"You'll see," Adrienne replied. "I'll set it out when everyone gets here."

"I told them noon," Erin grumbled, looking at her watch again. "They're late."

Adrienne and Erin, now almost healed, had invited their companions to a picnic lunch to thank them for their help in restoring the two friends to health. Erin had been in charge of contacting everyone and finding a location; Adrienne had brought food and drink. The delicious aromas of the food were escaping despite the cover, though Erin couldn't be sure what she smelled.

Laughter and voices along the path alerted the two girls to the arrival of their friends. Soon Kavila and Megan strolled into the clearing, followed by Kalva and Sarah, with Lindir a few paces behind. Kalva's arm was still in a sling, and would be for some weeks. However neither Adrienne nor Erin bore any sign of their injuries besides the scars; Adrienne had disposed of her cane yesterday, her crutch having gone long before.

Once everyone had settled into place, Adrienne reached beneath the cloth and drew out a waterskin, which she held up as if calling for silence. She soon received it, as the others turned from their conversations to regard her expectantly. Adrienne grinned. "Before we eat, I want to announce the purpose behind this picnic."

"Who said you needed a purpose for a picnic?" Megan called.

"Especially on a day as lovely as this," Lindir added.

Adrienne gave them both stern looks. "As I was saying, this picnic has a purpose that does not involve the weather," she continued. "Erin and I, and I'm sure Kalva will join us in this, want to thank all of you for helping set us on the road to recovery." A chorus of cheers and protests followed that statement, but Adrienne shushed them with an upraised hand.

"However much or little you did, it helped. We just wanted to say thank you." Adrienne finished, and Erin and Kalva nodded their agreement.

"You guys don't need to thank us!" Kavila said, laughing.

"Take nothing for granted," Erin commented sagely.

"Including food!" Megan burst out. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving here!" The others added their agreement, and Adrienne drew back the cover on her basket to reveal fresh-baked bread, a large hunk of cheese, and a pile of apples. For several minutes silence reigned supreme as everyone busied themselves with devouring the simple but utterly delicious spread.

"Anybody got a drink?" Sarah asked finally. Adrienne started.

"Oh! I forgot! Yes, I brought fresh spring water," she said, handing out several waterskins. "Sorry Kalva and Lindir, no beer. It's only noon, after all."

Lindir looked scandalized. "I do not drink that foul brew," he retorted indignantly. Kalva didn't say anything.

"Not even when you were younger?" Adrienne teased.

Lindir smiled faintly. "I was young and somewhat less than intelligent."

Adrienne pounced on his comment. "But you did drink it!"

"Yes, I did," Lindir sighed. "But as I said, I was not particularly bright." Everyone shared a laugh.

Finally Megan spoke up. "So where did you get all of this?" Megan asked.

Adrienne chuckled. "The cook gave it to me in exchange for a new recipe."

"What was the recipe?" Erin asked suspiciously.

"Hamburgers." Adrienne replied, grinning. "I told him about some of the different toppings, like lettuce and bacon."

Erin rolled her eyes. "Great. Get them going on fast food."

"Hey!" Adrienne retorted. "It's not like I introduced them to French fries!"

"And what, pray tell, are hamburgers and French fries?" Lindir asked, sending all five girls into gales of laughter. Before any of them could reply, the lighthearted scene was interrupted.

"Legolas?" Kavila exclaimed from her seat facing the path, her laughter forgotten.

Indeed, the elven prince leaned casually against a tree, smiling indulgently. They had never even heard him approach.

"Healer Lindir, Kalva, ladies," he greeted, "I was sent to bring you to the gathering that has assembled."

"Gathering?" Erin asked, racking her brain. Just as Legolas began to reply, she remembered the scene from the book.

"The hobbits Frodo and Samwise have awakened, and will come forth to dine with the King," Legolas answered. Adrienne squealed and looked at Erin, beaming. Erin returned the exuberant smile; neither had yet seen the two famous Halflings, and had been looking forward to this day.

Erin was on her feet in moments, and Adrienne was right behind her. The others rose more slowly, Lindir grimacing as his aging body protested. Erin was smiling so much her face hurt as she spoke to Legolas. "Lead the way, my lord!"

WHEN they were washed and clad, and had eaten a light meal, Frodo and Sam followed Gandalf. They stepped out of the beech-grove in which they had lain, and passed on to a long green lawn, glowing in sunshine, bordered by stately dark-leaved trees laden with scarlet blossom.

So they came to a wide green land, and beyond it was a broad river in a silver haze, out of which rose a long wooded isle, and many ships lay by its shores. But on the field where they now stood a great host was drawn up, in ranks and companies glittering in the sun. And as the Hobbits approached swords were unsheathed, and spears were shaken, and horns and trumpets sang, and men cried in many tongues.

And so the red blood blushing in their faces and their eyes shining with wonder, Frodo and Sam went forward and saw that amidst the clamorous host were set three high-seats. On the throne sat a mail-clad man, a great sword was laid across his knees, but he wore no helm. As they drew near he rose. And then they knew him, so high and glad of face, kingly, lord of Men, dark-haired with eyes of grey.

Frodo ran to meet him, and Sam followed close behind. "Well, if this isn't the crown of all!" he said. "Strider, or I'm still asleep!"

"Yes, Sam, Strider," said Aragorn. "It is a long way, is it not, from Bree, where you did not like the look of me?" And then to Sam's surprise and utter confusion he bowed before them; and taking them by the hand, he led them to the throne, and setting them upon it, he turned to the men and captains who stood by and spoke, crying:

"Praise them with great praise!"

And when the glad shout had swelled up and died away again, to Sam's final and complete satisfaction, a minstrel of Gondor stood forth, and knelt. And behold! he said:

"Lo! lords and knights and men of valour unashamed, kings and princes, and all free folk of the West, now listen to my lay. For I will sing to you of Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom."

And when Sam heard that he laughed aloud for sheer delight, and he stood up and cried: "O great glory and splendour! And all my wishes have come true!" And then he wept.

And all the host laughed and wept, and in the midst of their merriment and tears the clear voice of the minstrel rose like silver and gold, and all men were hushed. And he sang to them until their hearts, wounded with sweet words, overflowed, and their joy was like swords, and they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness.

-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

KAVILA watched, grinning, as Frodo and Sam dug into their food at the head of the table, where they sat in places of honor next to Aragorn. Not that she blamed them, of course; they more than deserved the feast. She also caught sight of Merry and Pippin, each dressed in their respective livery, jokingly playing servant to Frodo and Sam before they sat down to eat themselves. As Gandalf had told them, "You too are heroes in your own right, and this feast honors you as well."

Gandalf sat with the hobbits and the sons of Elrond at the head of the table. There also sat Legolas, with Gimli at his side. In the center of the table were the girls, arranged among the lesser lords. Conversation flowed as freely as wine (or, in Kavila and Adrienne's case, tea). Kavila had adamantly refused the wine; she was too afraid she would say something that she would regret later, particularly about a certain golden-haired elf.

Legolas however, as Kavila had observed this evening, was showing no such restraint. He had consumed three glasses of wine and was starting on his fourth, laughing and conversing with Aragorn and Elrond's sons.

Kavila wrenched her gaze away before he noticed her staring, turning her attention to her friends. Erin and Eomer were engaged in a spirited discussion about the history of the Rohirrim, while one of the Rangers, she thought his name was Drugger or something, lectured Adrienne in tracking. Megan was busy relentlessly teasing Sarah and Kalva, who wore identical blushes, though Kalva's might have been partly from the drink. Kavila turned to her own dinner partner, Imrahil, whom she was sure she had badly neglected this eve. Imrahil smiled at her, saying, "So, my lady Kavila, where do your interests lie? In weapons and battle, as your friends?" His smirk said more clearly than words that he knew _exactly_ where her interests had been so far this night.

Kavila spluttered for a moment. "No!" she burst out finally. "No way! I mean, um, not at all, my lord. If I see an Orc, I run! A troll? I shall be _long_ gone!" She cringed at the way her normal manner of speaking clashed with the smooth, practiced tone she was attempting to imitate.

"Not quite, Kavila!" Erin called from down the table, laughing. "You fought in that one skirmish!"

Kavila whirled to face Erin, glaring. "Only because that retarded Hervan dragged me into it!" she exclaimed. "And I did _not_ fight!"

"Whatever," Erin chuckled, turning her attention back to Eomer. Kavila glared. "Shut up, Warford!" she retorted finally, composing herself before turning to face Imrahil.

"Modesty often hides great valor," he commented.

Kavila shook her head. "Not here, my lord. I am suited more to the healer's life than the soldier's."

Imrahil quickly sobered. "I share your distaste for war," he said finally. "I would wield the pen rather than the sword, and engage in matches of diplomacy rather than battle. But I am of the line of the lords of Dol Amroth, captains of men, and so was my destiny in these dark times."

Kavila was silent; there wasn't really much she could say to that. She was pleased that there was someone who understood her sentiments on war, but she pitied Imrahil as well; unlike women, he had no choice but to go to war.

The somber mood was shattered by a sudden call. "Cake!" Erin exclaimed.

Kavila whirled around. "Cake? Whose birthday?" she said without thinking.

"It doesn't have to be someone's birthday to have cake!" Megan said. "Cake is good anytime!"

Erin was grinning. "Well, it's my birthday we missed, so it can be my cake."

"When's your birthday, Warford?" Kavila asked.

"March 21st," Erin declared proudly. "The second day of spring!"

"Mine was March 6," Megan added.

"Hey, mine's in two weeks!" Adrienne exclaimed. "April 14—the day the Titanic sank!"

"That's right!" Erin said. "With all this stuff happening, I'd forgotten! Hm…I wonder what I'll do for presents?" Kavila could almost see the wheels turning in her mind.

Adrienne turned to Kavila, pointedly ignoring Erin. "When's yours?"

"It's not till May," Kavila replied, shrugging.

"May what?" Adrienne pressed. Kavila caught sight of Legolas, his head slightly tilted her way, and decided she wasn't going to reply. Surely elven hearing could reach this far down the table, and she didn't want Legolas to know. _Why would he care?_ she thought suddenly. _It's not like he likes me _that_ way. He wouldn't actually buy me anything!_

"May 11th!" Erin said loudly. Kavila cringed.

"Is it your custom then, to give gifts on birthing-days?" Eomer asked. He was met with a laughing affirmative from all five girls.

Before the discussion could go further, Pippin and Merry leaped up on the table, displaying surprising balance and agility despite the copious alcohol they had consumed. "And now, a good ol' Shire song for cousin Frodo and dear Sam!" Merry announced, slurring the words slightly. The proposal was met with laughter and faint applause. The two young hobbits began a simple jig upon the table that prompted many to rescue their drinks from beneath the leaping hobbits.

Oh, sweets taste mighty good at times,

And meat hot from the fire can be filling,

But neither's good as a pint o' beer,

Nor half as sorrow-killing.

Oh, gold's a great treasure for some,

An' fills many a dragon's hoard,

But the best thing gold is good for,

Is buying plenty more kegs o' rum.

Oh, much's the good in a fair-faced lass,

Tho' sometimes 'tis sense they lack,

Yet drinks don't stay with you past morning,

An' pint cups don't talk back!

At the last line all the men broke out in peals of laughter, though there was some good-natured grumbling from the girls. Pippin and Merry were helped from the table, and then Pippin called, "Come, Frodo, give us a song!"

Frodo stared into his cup. "No, I don't think I shall." Aragorn gave him a knowing look, and then turned and called to the servants. "We've minstrels who are talented enough! Come, my friend, play us some dancing music!"

The minstrel obliged, and since the girls were the only females at the table, they were in high demand as dancing partners. Kalva whirled Sarah around with the music, Eomer drew Erin onto the dance floor, and Aragorn asked Adrienne for a dance. Megan disappeared into the crowd with that Ranger guy, and Kavila was left sitting at the table with Imrahil. Personally, she was just as happy sitting—she didn't want to attempt that twirling dance her friends were engaged in. With her luck, she'd fall flat on her face.

Suddenly Imrahil cleared his throat. Kavila turned back to look at him, and he half rose, when his gaze suddenly flicked behind her. Kavila looked up into Legolas's angelic face. "Oh my god!" she exclaimed when she saw him standing right behind her. "I so did not hear you! Don't _do_ that to me! I _hate_ it when people sneak up on me! I _hate_ it!" Legolas seemed mildly repentant.

"My apologies, lady Kavila. I would ask you for a dance, but it seems Lord Imrahil has already asked you," he said.

Kavila was about to say that yes, Imrahil had asked her, when Imrahil himself spoiled the entire plan. "I had no such designs, my lord Legolas. She is all yours," he said, bowing. "Perhaps another dance, hm?" Kavila could have sworn he winked at Legolas. Then he was gone, moving towards Elrond's sons. She glared at his back.

Legolas drew her attention by clearing his throat. He offered her his arm. "Would you dance with me?" he asked, smiling in that absolutely innocent, charming way that she loved—no, no, she did _not_ like it when he smiled at her, she did not! That was the part of her brain that was still deluded into thinking she was infatuated with him. She would not get caught in that mess!

Still, she couldn't decline Legolas's offer, not after Imrahil had made such a big show of leaving her to him. "Certainly, my lord," she replied, and Legolas led her onto the dance floor.

Then Kavila lost herself in the dance, the intricate motions requiring all her concentration. As she always did when dancing, she worked to maintain the grace and poise that her dance teacher back on Earth had instilled in her. She threw herself into the movements, focusing on matching Legolas step for step. After a few minutes of fumbling she began to understand the patterns of the steps, and long before the end of the song she was moving in tandem with Legolas, exhibiting every bit as much elven grace as her partner. Despite herself, she found herself laughing with pure joy.

When the dance was finished, Legolas drew her back to the table for a moment of rest. "Do you have that dance in your world, lady Kavila?" he asked her after they had caught their breath.

"No," she answered, shaking her head slowly. "Why?"

"You are very quick, then," Legolas said, smiling. "That is a difficult step, and you danced it well."

Kavila returned his smile in spite of herself. "I did have dance classes back on Earth, but they weren't that kind of dancing."

Legolas seemed interested. "What kind of dance did you learn?"

"Bharatnatyam," she replied, then realized she had spoken in Hindi. "I mean, that's what it's called in my language. It's a special type of dance in my culture."

"You are…of a different people than your friends?" Legolas asked, brows creasing as he attempted to understand.

_Great Kavi_, she chided herself. _Make him see how different you are_. "Yeah. My people are from a land called India. We're called Indians."

"Then how have you come to know your friends so well, if you live in different lands?" Legolas asked.

Kavila sighed. Explaining modern Earth culture could get rather complicated. "Well, I don't live in India, it's just where my family is from. But I live in another country, called America. There are people there from lots of different cultures and lands, all living together. My friends and I all live near each other and go to the same school, so we met each other and became friends."

"Ah," Legolas nodded. "And this dance you spoke of—" he paused for a moment, "—Bharatnatyam, how is it special?"

Kavila was surprised and vaguely pleased at how well Legolas picked up on the pronunciation of the Hindi word. "Well, it's special because it's not, like, dancing for fun. When you do Bharatnatyam, you kind of act out a story."

"Your dance tells a story?" Legolas clarified. Kavila nodded, and he continued. "What stories do you dance?"

Kavila chuckled. "Stories from my religion, from the myths of my people."

Legolas nodded. "I should like to see some of this Bharatnatyam, perhaps when we return to Minas Tirith?" He turned the statement into a question.

Kavila shrugged, trying to keep from committing to a performance. She absolutely did not want to end up dancing for Legolas, if it was at all possible to avoid it. "I don't know…maybe. I might be busy."

"With what?" Legolas asked.

Kavila shrugged again. "I don't know. They might need help in the Houses of Healing or something."

Legolas smiled. "Then I shall visit you in the Houses of Healing."

"O-okay," Kavila said slowly, trying to hide her nervousness at the prospect. She glanced futilely around. _Okay, Warford, this is about the time you should show up and start teasing me about something_, Kavila thought, wishing she were telepathic. _Tease me about Legolas, I don't care, as long as he doesn't have an opportunity to say anything else like that_.

Just then Imrahil strolled towards them from the other end of the table. "Would my lady Kavila grace me with her presence for a dance?" he asked, bowing. Kavila laughed in spite of her discomfort. "Sure," she said. _Anything to get away from Legolas_, she added to herself. Legolas looked faintly annoyed, but Kavila wasn't about to stay a moment longer. Imrahil led her onto the dance floor, and she did not see Legolas again that evening.

THE NEXT morning Adrienne strolled through the camp towards the tent she and Erin shared, hoping to find her friend there. So far this morning Adrienne had been unable to track down any of her friends; it was as if they had all disappeared.

Suddenly Erin came racing around the corner behind Adrienne, nearly bowling Adrienne over in her haste. Adrienne called out a greeting.

Erin looked up, breathing hard. "There you are!" she exclaimed. "I've been looking for you!"

Adrienne laughed. "So have I. Where have you been all morning?"

But Erin was shaking her head. "Come on, come on! Aragorn and Legolas are having a competition!" Erin took off at a run back the way she had come, dragging Adrienne behind her.

Adrienne freed herself from Erin's grasp and caught up to her friend. "What kind of competition? Why?"

Erin shrugged mid-stride. "Don't know why. Don't know what kind of contest either. I just came to find you. Probably not archery."

Adrienne chuckled. "Aragorn knows he'd get his butt kicked."

Soon their questions were answered as they approached a large crowd gathered in a clearing and heard the sound of metal ringing. Adrienne and Erin exchanged wide grins. "Sparring!" Erin whispered gleefully. Adrienne returned the sentiment wholeheartedly as they pushed through the ring of watchers to the front row. Aragorn was the best swordsman in Middle Earth, and Legolas was quite a warrior himself. This would be good.

Once they reached the inner circle of spectators, Erin and Adrienne were met with a glorious sight. Legolas, blond hair dancing on his deep green tunic, whirled to block a blow from Aragorn's broadsword with his long elven knife. The two blades met with a great clang, and then Aragorn leaped back to avoid a slash at his midsection from Legolas's second blade. Their faces a mask of concentration, the combatants circled, eyeing each other fiercely. Aragorn's maroon tunic was stained with sweat; neither he nor Legolas wore any armor.

Adrienne saw Elrond's sons cheering from across the clearing, one for Legolas and one for Aragorn, calling out criticisms and comments—often at the worst times. Adrienne found this quite amusing; after all, the twins had probably taught Aragorn swordplay.

Legolas moved in for an attack, feinting a stab at Aragorn's stomach before leaping to the left and slashing at Aragorn's unprotected right side. Aragorn twisted sharply, barely avoiding the blade. He let the momentum of the twist carry him around, bringing Anduril around in a vicious cut at Legolas's chest. Legolas jumped nimbly back, but he misjudged the length of Aragorn's sword, the tip of which opened a foot-long slash in his tunic.

From somewhere on the other side of the clearing there came a scream. Adrienne craned her neck and saw Kavila, an expression of abject horror on her face as she watched the match. It was quickly replaced with a look of intense relief as she realized that Legolas was unhurt.

The twins, standing nearby, noticed her behavior and shared a grin. As Legolas and Aragorn circled one of them called out, "Come Legolas, you must not lose, or you shall disgrace yourself in front of your lady-love."

Kavila sputtered but didn't retort, still too awed by the high elven lords to actually contradict them. Adrienne chuckled to herself. After the dance last night, it was a wonder the entire camp wasn't congratulating them on finding love. Though neither had realized it, the entire party had come to a standstill towards the end of their dance last night, as everyone watched the couple performing the steps with such breathtaking grace.

Aragorn, taking advantage of Legolas's momentary distraction, swung at Legolas's right arm. The elf barely got his blades up in time, turning to face the oncoming blade and bringing his knives to bear in an "X" shape. Twisting the blades around in a maneuver too fast for Adrienne to follow, Legolas managed to trap Anduril between his knives. Before Aragorn could withdraw the blade Legolas wrenched Anduril from the King's grasp, sending it flying through the air to land several feet away.

Aragorn didn't miss a beat. Backing away to give himself time, he drew the elven knife given to him by the Lady Galadriel. Adrienne drew in her breath sharply. They must not be ending at disarmament, or Legolas would have won. Now it was down to one knife against two.

Legolas attacked, a jab to Aragorn's right side just under the rib. Aragorn knocked it away, moving his knife in a downward arc from left to right, and letting the momentum of the swing turn his body to the right. Then he kicked out with his left foot, connecting with the underside of Legolas's right wrist as the elf attempted a second strike. Legolas's mouth tightened at the pain of the blow, and he dropped his knife.

Legolas switched his last knife to his right hand, even as Aragorn turned once more to face him. Aragorn feinted to the right and darted in for a strike at Legolas's chest, but Legolas anticipated this and dropped instead to the ground. Swinging his leg in a powerful arc, the elf slammed it into Aragorn's legs, and Aragorn fell with a shout. Legolas rolled forward and brought his knife to Aragorn's throat, pinning the king's knife-arm with his left hand.

One elven eyebrow raised delicately in a silent question.

Aragorn groaned. "I surrender." Legolas rose gracefully and retrieved his second knife, slipping them both into the sheath at his back. He offered a hand to Aragorn, who took it gratefully. The two friends shared a brief smile as the spectators burst into cheers and clapping, and Aragorn went to recover Anduril.

Erin leaned close to Adrienne's ear. "I bet that brought back some memories," she said softly. Adrienne chuckled and nodded. Aragorn and Legolas had been friends long before the Quest began.

Suddenly Adrienne turned at the sound of her name. Gandalf made his way through the crowd towards them, Frodo and Sam at his side. Adrienne could not restrain a squeal of delight; though the two hobbits had been present at the dinner last night, they had disappeared before Adrienne had a chance to meet them.

By the time the three men neared, Erin had noticed their approach as well. Adrienne introduced them, and together the two friends bowed to the hobbits. "I am Adrienne, and this is Erin."

"Gandalf has indeed spoken of you," Frodo said. "But you did not say, Adrienne and Erin of where?" Adrienne winced inwardly. Erin glanced at Gandalf, who nodded slightly.

"That is actually a rather long tale," Erin said, motioning for the hobbits to precede her out of the crowd. "It would be better told sitting down, I think." She grabbed Adrienne's arm, pulling Adrienne after her as they followed the hobbits towards an unoccupied spot of shaded ground. "You've got to help me explain."

Adrienne chuckled. "Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't miss this for the world."

MEGAN watched her companions with open amusement as the fight was ended. Sarah and Kalva didn't seem to realize it had finished; they were discussing something very quietly, exchanging little smiles at intervals.

On the other hand, Kavila's relief was obvious. She had watched the match with barely concealed worry, no doubt fearing that one of the combatants would be hurt. Megan thought it rather silly; both men were very experienced with their weapons, and even if something happened, Aragorn was a talented healer.

But the true cause of her amusement was the fact that Kavila continued to stare at Legolas as he spoke with Aragorn and gathered his weapons. Megan hid a smile and reached over to tap Kavila on the shoulder.

Kavila jumped and whirled to face Megan, eyes wide. "What?" she asked, her voice slightly higher than usual.

Megan grinned. "You were staring."

Kavila glared. "Was not." Megan just rolled her eyes and laughed.

Kavila turned her attention back to the clearing briefly, feeling someone's gaze on her. Legolas met her eyes and then, smiling softly, he _winked_. He, a dignified, godlike elven prince, _winked_. It was so…presumptuous! Kavila suppressed a desire to slap him. If this was about what that stupid elf-lord-twin-guy had said…

Megan called her name, bringing Kavila out of her angry thoughts. "What?" she asked a second time, her exasperation clear in her voice.

Megan chuckled. "We have to go," she said. "We've only got ten minutes before we're due back at the armory."

"Armory?" Kavila said without thinking, and Megan laughed harder.

Beside her, Sarah gasped. "That's right! We've got to get back!" Megan glanced around the crowd, searching for her other two friends. There they were, seated off to the side with Frodo, Sam, and Gandalf. Yes, they would be quite occupied for awhile. Erin had kept to her promise. Megan smiled again and motioned for Sarah and Kavila to follow her. In moments they were lost in the crowd.

A WEEK later, Adrienne was becoming used to waking up alone. For the past few days Erin had left their tent before dawn—or at least, that was what Adrienne thought. She never actually saw her friend leave. But Adrienne had awakened at dawn yesterday, and Erin had still been absent.

Adrienne had also become accustomed to wandering alone until about noon, at which time Erin would usually join her, excusing her morning absence by saying she had been talking with Gandalf, or practicing swordwork with Kalva, or any number of other things. Adrienne had become very suspicious, although she had found that Erin's stories were always true. She had asked the various people whom Erin had claimed to be spending the morning with, and had received only confirmations. Nonetheless, it left Adrienne with an uneasy feeling.

This morning, however, Adrienne wasn't particularly worried by Erin's absence. She had more important things to think about—namely, the sword-practice she had scheduled with Dregor for mid-morning. She quickly readied herself, dressing and eating a hasty but decent breakfast in the mess hall, and left for the meeting place she and Dregor had agreed on.

As she neared the clearing, Adrienne tried to dispel the butterflies that had taken up residence within her stomach. After all, Dregor knew she didn't have much experience, and Vilad had taught her well. She chuckled softly to herself; she had faced a troll, and now she was nervous about sparring a ranger?

But she knew the reason for it. She respected Dregor greatly, for his intelligence and his skills as a ranger and warrior. She did not want to disappoint him.

Then Adrienne reached the shade of the trees that enclosed the clearing and stopped short, her anxiety replaced with awe. Within the clearing, Dregor was practicing. The graceful arcs and staccato stabs of his sword seemed to sketch a picture upon the cool morning air, his body moving with a practiced fluidity that rivaled elven grace. The new light of the morning sun glinted off his blade and lit a red aura about his brown hair, giving him the appearance of one of the great warriors of old. Adrienne took a deep breath as her nervousness returned full-force and stepped into the clearing.

Dregor whirled immediately to face her, smiling encouragingly when he saw her. "You are early," he remarked, though he did not sheathe his sword.

Adrienne took the hint and drew her own, bowing her head briefly. "I am eager to begin."

"Then we shall begin immediately," Dregor laughed, motioning for her to come into the center of the clearing. "You said that you had some previous instruction?"

Adrienne nodded. "Vilad of Minas Tirith. He was wounded in the Battle of the Pelennor Fields."

Dregor grimaced. "Many were lost or wounded upon those fields. But come now, were you taught the basic blocks and attacks?"

Adrienne nodded again, thus beginning an hour of drills in the basic moves of swordfighting. Dregor was a demanding and exact teacher, she found. Once he corrected a stance or grip, he expected Adrienne to remember the correction the next time he ordered her into the position. He gave nothing freely except criticism, making his praise a coveted thing.

When he finally allowed her to rest and drink, she sank onto the ground with a weary sigh. Though she had not exerted herself a great deal, holding the positions for long minutes while Dregor scrutinized her stance and the angle of her arms had tired her muscles more than she had expected.

But Dregor's next words brought a glow of energy to her once more. "Give my respect to Vilad of Minas Tirith. He taught you well." The ranger took a quick drink from his own waterskin and then looked back at Adrienne. "Do you think you are ready to spar?"

Adrienne scrambled to her feet. "Of course!"

Dregor chuckled. "On your guard, then." Adrienne hastened to get into position, feeling a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. She had managed well enough with the basic moves, but could she gain the ranger's respect in a real sparring match?

Dregor attacked, and Adrienne pushed her emotions to the back of her mind. He started with a sharp cut at her right side, which she easily blocked. He disengaged and swung at her other side, but higher; the blow came near her neck. Adrienne leaped back and parried, keeping her sword in front of her. Dregor matched her step, closing the distance between them even as he responded with a stab at her abdomen. Adrienne evaded to the left, bringing her sword down in an arc to block the blow. Continuing the swing back upward, she struck at Dregor's neck. He leaped to the right, blocking the strike easily.

Suddenly Dregor froze, holding up a hand in a silent command for Adrienne to stop. When she did, Adrienne heard someone crashing through the forest towards them. Moments later Megan's tanned face appeared as she dashed down the path toward Adrienne and Dregor. She came to a sudden stop when she reached the clearing.

"Adrienne! Something's happened! Hurry, follow me!" she panted before turning back the way she had come. Adrienne was close on her heels.

"What's happened?" Adrienne managed as she struggled to keep up with Megan. _Damn cross-country runner_, she ranted mentally.

"No time!" was Megan's hasty reply, as the girl sprinted down the paths. Adrienne shook her head in frustration and gave up, concentrating on following Megan and hoping her bad knee didn't decide to act up.

After many frenzied minutes of running, Megan came to a sudden halt in a small grove. Adrienne peered around the girl's slight form, seeing nothing in the clearing. Megan walked forward until she was in the middle of the grove, turning to face Adrienne. She was grinning from ear to ear.

"Happy Birthday!" Megan shouted, even as people burst from behind trees and bushes into the small grove. "Happy Birthday!" the call resounded throughout the clearing.

Adrienne stood absolutely still for several moments before she realized her mouth was wide open. She shut it forcibly, wide eyes scanning the gathering of friends. There were Erin, Kavila, and Sarah, as well as Kalva and Lindir and Gandalf and the hobbits—all four of them!—and the Three Hunters. Last, looking slightly winded, was…Dregor! Adrienne's mouth fell open again. "How…how did you beat us here!" she demanded.

Dregor chuckled. "A shortcut."

Adrienne glared, turning her attention back to Megan. "So there wasn't anything wrong?" she asked somewhat indignantly.

Megan laughed. "Nope. Everything is perfectly fine…which is a miracle after all we've gone through to get this ready without you knowing."

Erin stepped up. "Now, now. Before we start bragging about all the work we've put into this, Adrienne needs to make a choice. Cake or presents first?"

"Presents!" Adrienne exclaimed. "But how…" None of them had any money to buy presents!

Erin interrupted her. "We'll tell you that after we've given them to you. Do you want the presents first, then?" Adrienne could only nod dumbly.

Erin turned and took a plain wooden box from Sarah, coming forward until she stood before Adrienne. Beaming, Erin sank to one knee before her, holding the box up as if in offering. "My lady Adrienne. For you, from your friends." she murmured.

Adrienne giggled at Erin's display, but took the box. It was about a foot and a half long and perhaps six inches wide. Though there were no designs on the front, the wood was beautifully polished.

Adrienne carefully undid the clasp on the box, completely baffled as to what she might find inside. When she finally lifted the top up and saw the box's contents, she nearly dropped it.

Inside, nestled in black fabric, lay a pair of long knives in a sheath. The hilts were slightly curved to fit the hand, wrapped in dark brown leather, with rounded ends gleaming silver. The sheath was supple leather, slightly reddish-brown, with silver buckles.

Adrienne looked up, too stunned to smile. "Oh my god…you guys…this is beautiful…"

Erin was beaming. "Take them out of the sheath."

She held the box as Adrienne lifted the sheathed blades out, pulling one free of its sheath. Adrienne held her breath as she turned the foot-long blade slowly, marveling at the way it reflected the sunlight. Suddenly she held it close to her eyes, attempting to make out the runes engraved on the blade. "What…"

Erin moved to look over her shoulder. "I think they're Adunaic—the old speech of men. I'm not sure. But the blacksmith told me they're runes of protection." She held the sheath as Adrienne withdrew the second knife, stepping back and replacing the sheath in the box.

Adrienne gripped the knives, performing a couple of quick, experimental moves with them. She could not keep an ecstatic smile from her face as she turned to Erin. "Erin…" she began, tears of joy in her eyes. Erin presented the open box, and Adrienne put the blades away. Placing the box carefully aside, she enveloped Erin in a hug. "Thank you so incredibly much…"

"I'm not the only one you should be thanking." Erin said. "That present is from Kavila, Sarah, and Megan, too. We've all been doing shifts at the armory, working off the cost of the knives. Even Kavila—she made arrows."

Adrienne couldn't keep the tears back. "Oh my god…I love you guys…" she said, hugging each in turn. As she stepped back, she saw Erin motioning out of the corner of her eye.

Legolas moved forward, bowing slightly. "Happy Birthday, Lady Adrienne. As a present, I would offer you lessons with your new knives."

Adrienne stood speechless for several moments. "You…teach me?" she said slowly. Legolas nodded, smiling. In answer, Adrienne threw her arms around him. "Of course!" she answered with a beaming smile. "Refuse weapons lessons from an elf? I couldn't even if I wanted to!"

Next the hobbits stepped forward, carrying a many-layered cake between them. "Here's our present!" they called as they placed the cake on the ground.

"Although," Pippin added. "it seems rather strange to give presents to the birthday-lass."

Everyone laughed heartily. "A most fitting present from hobbits!" Gandalf commented with a chuckle as everyone gathered round to feast on the delicious-looking cake.

"Knife, anyone?" Erin called, her gaze falling on the box containing Adrienne's present. Adrienne clutched her new knives closer as Erin eyed them. "Not for cutting cake!" she warned. Erin laughed and turned to Dregor, who was offering his own knife for the honorable use of cake-cutting.

Merry pulled out his pocket-watch as he sat down to eat. "As I thought!" he commented. "It's just time for elevensies!"

"We're back in decent lands, Mr. Frodo!" Sam said. "A hobbit can get his proper six meals here!"

Erin, seated next to Adrienne, draped an arm around her friend's shoulders. "Happy seventeenth birthday, Adrienne," she said softly.

_Happy birthday indeed_, Adrienne thought to herself as she swept her eyes over her friends, sharing laughter and food. She didn't think she'd ever been happier.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

IN THE meanwhile the host made ready for the return to Minas Tirith. The weary rested and the hurt were healed. For some had labored and fought much with the remnants of the Easterlings and Southrons, until all were subdued.

But at the last when the month of May was drawing near the Captains of the West set out again; and they went aboard ship with all their men, and they came to the great fields of the Pelennor and saw again the white towers under tall Mindolluin, the City of the Men of Gondor, that had passed through the darkness and fire to a new day.

And there in the midst of the fields they set up their pavilions and awaited the morning; for it was the Eve of May, and the King would enter his gates with the rising of the Sun.

And when the sun rose, then all the bells rang, and all the banners broke and flowed in the wind; and upon the White Tower of the citadel the standard of the Stewards, bright argent like snow in the sun, was raised over Gondor for the last time.

Now the Captains of the West led their host toward the City and halted a furlong from the walls. A barrier was laid across the entrance to the City, and there stood Faramir the Steward and Hurin Warder of the Keys.

A hush fell upon all as out from the host stepped the Dunedain in silver and grey; and before them came the Lord Aragorn. He was clad in black mail girt with silver, and he wore a mantle of white clasped at the throat with a great jewel of green; but his head was bare save for a star upon his forehead bound by a slender fillet of silver. With him was Gandalf robed all in white, and four small figures that many men marveled to see.

Faramir met Aragorn in the midst of those there assembled, and he knelt, and said: "The last Steward of Gondor begs leave to surrender his office." And he held out a white rod; but Aragorn took the rod and gave it back, saying: "That office is not ended, and it shall be thine and thy heirs' as long as my line shall last. Do now thy office!"

Then Faramir stood up and spoke in a clear voice: "Men of Gondor, behold! one has come to claim the kingship again at last. Here is Aragorn son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dunedain, wielder of the Sword Reforged, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur's son. Shall he be king and enter into the City and dwell there?"

And all the host and all the people cried _yea_ with one voice.

Then Faramir opened the casket, and he held up an ancient crown. It was all white, and the wings of either side were wrought of pearl and silver in the likeness of the wings of a sea-bird, and seven gems of adamant were set in the circlet, and upon its summit was set a single jewel the light of which went up like a flame.

Then Aragorn took the crown and held it up and said: _Et Earello Endorenna utulien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta!_

Then Aragorn did not put the crown upon his head, but said: "By the labour and valour of many I have come into my inheritance. In token of this I would have the Ring-bearer bring the crown to me, and let Mithrandir set it upon my head; for he has been the mover of all that has been accomplished, and this is his victory."

Then Frodo came forward and bore the crown to Gandalf; and Aragorn knelt, and Gandalf set the White Crown upon his head, and said: "Now come the days of the King, and may they be blessed while the thrones of the Valar endure!"

But when Aragorn arose all that beheld him gazed in silence, for it seemed that he was revealed to them now for the first time. Ancient of days he seemed and yet in the flower of manhood; and wisdom sat upon his brow, and strength and healing were in his hands, and a light was about him. And then Faramir cried:

"Behold the King!"

And all the trumpets were blown, and the King Elessar went forth and came to the barrier, and Hurin of the Keys thrust it back; and the King passed through the flower-laden streets, and came to the Citadel, and entered in; and the banner of the Tree and the Stars was unfurled upon the topmost tower, and the reign of King Elessar began, of which many songs have told.

-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

ADRIENNE looked about her in sheer wonder as the procession moved through the levels of the City. The people of Minas Tirith were overjoyed to welcome a King into their city once more, and they had certainly gone out of their way to show it. Garlands and wreaths of flowers adorned every statue and wall, and had been entwined in the branches of every tree or bush. The people themselves had turned out in all their finery; every man and woman wearing their best clothes, and often every piece of jewelry they owned. And all of them, from the children to the grandparents, beamed and waved as the King passed them.

"Adrienne, look at that girl there, the one with the brown and blue dress on! Isn't her necklace pretty?" Erin exclaimed, freeing one hand from the task of guiding her horse to point. Adrienne smiled at Erin's enthusiasm and agreed, glancing at the metalwork on the gate they were passing now. Everything in this city was so beautifully crafted; a work of art in itself.

Adrienne thought it was the fifth level they were entering now, though she couldn't be sure. Her horse, a tan-colored mare named Hirelle, pranced beneath her suddenly. "Erin! Adrienne!" a deep voice boomed out from the crowd. There at the edge of the crowd lining the street stood Vilad, a crutch tucked beneath his arm.

"Vilad!" Erin exclaimed, grinning. "Come and join us!" She dismounted and began to lead Greda, even as the other three girls behind them caught sight of Vilad. Soon all five had dismounted and walked with Vilad; the procession was moving slowly enough that they caused no problems.

"How long have you been walking?" Kavila asked Vilad.

"A couple of weeks, with a crutch," Vilad answered with a sigh. "The Warden has said that I may use a cane next week, but I will not be able to walk unaided for some time."

"What's happened to the armory?" Adrienne asked.

"A friend of mine has taken it over until I am fit to resume my post," Vilad replied wistfully. "I am able to oversee some classes and practices, but my strength is not what it used to be. Yet the Warden has assured me I shall recover eventually. And then, my lady Adrienne," his voice turned serious, "we shall see if battle experience has improved your form."

"We killed a cave troll, me and Adrienne," Erin piped up.

Vilad stopped in his tracks. "You killed a _cave troll_?" Erin and Adrienne nodded enthusiastically as he began walking again, throwing them incredulous glances.

"I helped kill one, after it knocked Kalva unconscious!" Sarah put in, and Vilad smiled a little. "Only after it harmed Kalva?" he teased. She sputtered indignantly. "Speaking of Kalva, why does he not ride with you?"

"He didn't want to. He's back in the ranks with the common soldiers." Sarah answered.

"Ah. And what tales of my most reluctant student?" Vilad turned to Kavila.

"Um…it was a battle." Kavila stated.

Vilad waited for more, raising his eyebrows.

"I don't do battles." Kavila elaborated. Vilad continued to look slightly puzzled.

"She faced off with a Nazgul!" Erin called.

"Did not, Warford!" Kavila returned indignantly. "I saw one coming towards me and I fainted!"

"Whatever," Erin muttered, earning a "Shut up, Warford!" from Kavila, who had heard Erin mumble something and was certain it was about her.

Vilad threw back his head and laughed loud and long. "You shall have to tell me the whole story," he said. "But not now, I think; you are about to pass into the sixth level and should mount up. That is where the noble lords live. I shall leave you now."

Amidst protests and farewells the five girls remounted their steeds, and Vilad returned to the crowd lining the road. Adrienne and her friends passed under the great gate into the sixth level, excitement growing as they drew near the Citadel.

Sarah stared around her in wonder as the procession approached the Citadel. Here were gathered the counselors and generals, as well as the Tower Guard. All were dressed in their finest garments and uniforms, the wives and daughters of the men waving colored scarves and handkerchiefs at them. The cloths were spots of color among the blinding white stone of the main Citadel, whose topmost tower glinted a breathtaking gold in the sunrise. Banners and standards waved from the windows and balconies of the palace, and servants upon the balconies dropped basketfuls of white petals upon the King as he entered the palace.

The Tower Guards stepped forward and took their horses, and the five girls followed the other members of the procession into the palace. Once inside Sarah nearly paused again to marvel at the decorations: blue and green cloth was draped between columns and among the railings of the stairs, and flower garlands adorned every statue. The only areas that were bare were the floor and the thrones at the end of the long hall.

The rest of the onlookers held back as Aragorn and Faramir strode up to the dais where the thrones stood, Faramir walking a few steps behind Aragorn. When he reached the dais Aragorn ascended the steps to the throne, the tall winged crown making him seem even taller. Faramir knelt at his feet until he commanded the Steward to assume his seat.

The Fellowship came forth, led by Gandalf, and knelt before the King. Gandalf spoke, blessing Aragorn's reign on behalf of the Fellowship with whom he had traveled. Then each member of the Fellowship came forth separately to give their own well-wishes to the King on behalf of their race. All saw the King discreetly wipe away tears when the last group, the hobbits, had made their speech.

The Fellowship was followed by the counselors and nobles, who were lined up quite a fair distance, waiting for their moment before the King. After a few minutes Megan whispered, "We don't need to watch this. Let's go."

"Where?" Sarah asked. "We can't exactly go back to Gandalf's room."

"We can find a servant and ask to be directed to whoever is in charge of assigning rooms." Megan answered.

"It's as good a plan as any," Erin said, and the others nodded. They had only taken a few steps when Gandalf, dressed in those intimidating white robes, stepped up and blocked their way.

"Have you given your blessings to the King, my ladies?" the wizard asked sternly.

"No…" Adrienne replied slowly. "I didn't know we needed to. We're not nobility or anything."

"You are the only representatives from your world," Gandalf said quite seriously. "It would be exceedingly discourteous to leave before you had spoken to the King."

"All right, we will," Erin said quickly, unwilling to argue with the wizard. "But while we're waiting to do that, could you help us figure out what to do about our rooms? We can't keep staying with you, but I don't think we've been assigned rooms."

"I will make arrangements," Gandalf said with a smile. "Now hurry, or you shall be waiting long past lunch."

Erin led her friends to the crowd of well-wishers, ignoring the surprised and somewhat disapproving glances cast their way. "All right. We have to act like nobility, even if we aren't. Who wants to give the blessing?"

"I think _you_ should," Megan told Erin. "After all, you got us into this by telling Gandalf we would do it."

"_Me?_" Erin retorted incredulously. "I'm the one with a horrible case of stage fright. I'd burst into tears the moment I got up there!"

"Oh, you will not!" Kavila rolled her eyes. "You'll do fine. Besides, you know better than anyone what to say, Lord of the Rings expert."

"I'll blank out when I get up there!" Erin replied frantically. "My knees will be visibly shaking! I'll hyperventilate and pass out!"

Adrienne put a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. "We'll all be right behind you. Just remember Aragorn's a nice guy, and being King won't change that. Think of him at my birthday party, or visiting us in the Healing Houses. You weren't freaking out then."

Erin gave her an incredulous look. "He's the _King _now! And _everyone_ important is here! We'll be laughed out of the City if I mess up."

"Then you had better not mess up," Sarah said, a note of finality in her voice.

Erin sighed with resignation. "So I guess I'm doing it no matter what I say. All right…so what do I say?"

"You're the Lord of the Rings expert!" Kavila retorted. "Come up with some Elvish or something!"

Erin's face lit up. "That's a good idea!" But then she shook her head. "I'll butcher the pronunciation," she said sadly.

"Erin, the only people here who actually speak Elvish are Aragorn, Gandalf, and Legolas," Adrienne said, rolling her eyes. "No one will care!"

"Okay…okay." Erin took a deep breath to calm herself. "Let's see…How about we start off with something like 'We speak for the people of our world, Earth.'"

And so the five friends huddled together and planned out Erin's speech. When they had finished, they looked around them to find that they were halfway through the line. The rest of waiting time Erin spent rehearsing her speech, until she was sure it wasn't humanly possible to forget it.

Finally they came within a few people of the throne. Erin's heart pounded in her ears and her hands were clammy. It felt as though all the blood had left her head, and she knew her hands were shaking horribly; her knees were trembling so much she was somewhat surprised they didn't give out beneath her as she moved forward in the line. Every second seemed to crawl by. Two more people in front of her…and then one more…

The man directly before them, a counselor dressed in rich robes, rose and moved off to the side. It was their turn. Erin moved forward almost without realizing she had done so, her friends a step behind. She glanced up and met the kindly eyes of Aragorn, who must certainly see how nervous she was. Erin was suddenly, painfully aware of the clothes she wore: well-tailored leggings and tunic suitable for the road, but not for an audience with the King. _The King won't care_, she told herself. _He knows you've just come in from the road_. Still, she could feel the disapproving glances boring into her back as she forced her shaky knees to bend. She heard the rustle of clothes as her friends followed her actions.

The hum of conversation in the room fell to a whisper. Erin suddenly realized how exposed she was, kneeling in front of her friends here. _Everybody_ was looking at them! With a deep breath and a mental kick, she forced herself to start speaking. For a moment she was certain she had blanked out, but then she remembered the first few words, and the rest followed.

"Greetings, King Elessar. We speak for the people of our world, Earth. We wish you a long and peaceful rule and success in all your ventures. May your line continue to rule in peace and prosperity unto the ending of the world, and may the White Tree of Gondor bloom as long as your descendants sit upon the throne." Erin paused for a moment, debating whether or not to say the last sentence. "Nai tiruvantel ar varyuvantel i Valar tielyanna nu vilya (May the Valar aid you on your path under the sky)."

Aragorn's face reflected his surprise, followed by a wry smile. "Well said, Lady Erin. Thank you, and fare you well."

Erin rose and bowed, her friends doing the same behind her. "Fare you well, my lord." And then she turned and walked unsteadily toward an alcove containing one of the white, kingly statues. When she reached the wall she turned and collapsed against it, sighing with profound relief. "Thank _God_ that's over," she said as her friends reached her. "You guys owe me _big_ for that."

"Maybe," said Adrienne. "But right now you need to stop acting like you've just run a race. People are staring."

Erin forced herself into a standing position. "Sorry. I just wasn't sure my legs would hold me for a minute there."

"A wonderful speech, ladies," came a well-known voice behind them. All turned to find Gandalf striding toward them, smiling broadly. "Very well-spoken, Erin. I am afraid that your Elvish requires a bit of tutoring, however. I suggest you speak with Legolas about the matter."

Erin grinned wearily. "A wonderful suggestion—for another time. Right now I want to take a bath and get cleaned up." Her friends nodded enthusiastically in agreement, and Gandalf chuckled. "Follow me," he said, and strode off toward a hall that branched off of the throne room near the back wall.

"Do we each have our own room, Gandalf?" Sarah asked once they had left the throne room behind them.

Gandalf chuckled. "Yes, although you must share washrooms, I'm afraid."

"Oh, that's okay," Adrienne said. "Who's sharing with who?"

"I am not certain," Gandalf replied. "But I believe you and Erin share one, and Sarah and Megan another."

"What about me?" Kavila asked indignantly.

"You will share your washroom with the occupant of the adjacent room," Gandalf replied seriously, but Erin thought she saw his lips twitch slightly as she walked beside him. A few minutes later they reached their rooms, and Gandalf waited in the hall as each girl stepped inside. The rooms were not exactly lavish, but they were certainly well-decorated and served their purpose as living quarters for guests who needed to be impressed.

Sarah was the first to step back out. "Um, Gandalf?" she said. "What are we going to change into? I mean, these clothes may smell bad, but they're all we've got."

Adrienne and Megan poked their heads back out upon hearing Sarah's question. Gandalf chuckled, fingering a bulge in the right pocket of his robes that clanked suspiciously. "Ah, yes, I had nearly forgotten. Aragorn has provided for you," he held up a cloth purse filled with coins. "but I shall accompany you to the tailor so that he can take your measurements."

"The tailor can't make clothes _that_ quickly, though!" Megan exclaimed. "What are we going to wear to the feast tonight?"

"I took the liberty of having your dresses brought up," Gandalf replied. Seeing their puzzled looks, he continued. "The dresses you were given when you first arrived."

Sarah and Adrienne nodded. Megan had already moved to call Kavila and Erin into the hall before they could start on their baths. Then they set off for the tailor, who seemed delighted to see them. _Well_, Sarah considered when she saw the size of Gandalf's purse, _it's not every day he gets this much work to do, or gets paid this well for it_. Gandalf waited while they were measured; the tailor was efficient and experienced, and finished his task remarkably quickly.

"Don't you have somewhere else to go, Gandalf?" Adrienne asked at one point.

The wizard chuckled. "Aragorn can manage perfectly well on his own, I think. And all those noblemen," he shook his head, "I don't envy Aragorn at all. It makes one long for a pint of ale and a good smoke in a lively Shire inn!"

When the tailor was finished, Gandalf led the girls back to their rooms. "The tailor will deliver your clothing to you as it is finished. I will leave you now; the day is yours to do with as you will."

"We probably shouldn't start getting ready until later this afternoon," Adrienne said. "We don't want to sit around in our dresses for hours."

"It's getting close to lunchtime," Erin said. "Why don't we get lunch in our rooms, and just sit around in here until three o' clock or so? Then we can get ready in plenty of time."

With that, the girls retreated into their rooms to investigate, and Gandalf set off down the hall. Before he could get far, however, Erin called out to him. He turned, raising an eyebrow inquiringly. She motioned him to come into her room, then closed the door behind him.

"So," she began in a conspiratorial voice, "whose room is next to Kavila's?"

The wizard affected an innocent face. "I haven't the faintest idea."

"You do, and I know you do," Erin replied sternly. "Out with it!"

Gandalf shook his head. "Very well." He leaned close and whispered a name into her ear.

Erin nearly collapsed with laughter. "You old matchmaker!" she gasped, struggling to catch her breath as she shooed him out the door. "I'll never trust you with room assignments again! God only knows what you've got planned for me!"

Gandalf's eyes twinkled as he turned to leave. His reply drifted back to her on a wisp of laughter. "We shall see."

KAVILA wrapped a towel around her damp hair and left the washroom, making her way over to the bed where her dress was laid out. She slipped it on quickly, shivering in the drier, colder air of the bedroom. Once dressed she moved to admire herself in the mirror, adjusting the dress until it hung just right on her body. Then she grabbed the gold brooch off the dresser and tried to decide where to place it. Here? Or maybe here…yes, she finally decided, definitely there. She fastened the brooch securely to her dress, just above her heart.

Her hair should be mostly dry by now, she decided. Now, where was that hairbrush? With a start she realized she had left it in the washroom, having used it to brush her hair before she bathed. She quickly walked to the door into the washroom, which she had closed when she left it, and drew it open.

The sight that met her eyes would be imprinted upon her mind forever.

There, his shirt conspicuously absent, stood Legolas—brushing his hair with _her_ hairbrush! Granted, it wasn't hers; the servants had left one in the room, along with soap and towels. But still! _Why is _he_ in _my_ bathroom!_ Kavila wanted to yell. _With no shirt on!_ As far as Kavila was concerned, that was worse than the hairbrush. She had been raised modestly, and this was just too much. She wished she could sink into the floor for eternity, and she was sure her face was glowing with embarrassment. She wanted to scream at him to put his shirt on, or demand what he was doing in her bathroom. All that came out, however, was a surprised squeak.

Legolas whirled, his eyes widening as he saw Kavila. He swallowed hard once before speaking. "Lady Kavila…pray tell what you are doing _here_?" His voice sounded slightly higher than usual.

Kavila had to swallow more than once before she could get her vocal cords to work. "I…what am _I_ doing here?" she finally managed. "I…this is _my_ bathroom!"

"Your bathroom?" Legolas's eyebrows rose. "I believe 'tis mine. My room is there." He pointed through the door at the opposite end of the washroom.

Kavila spluttered for several moments. "But…but mine is there!" she pointed at the other door into her room. And suddenly she remembered: _"You will share your washroom with the occupant of the adjacent room," Gandalf replied. _

"That…that…retarded old git!" Kavila nearly screamed, starting to pace. Then, in a calmer but no less dangerous tone, "I'm going to kill him. I'm _so_ going to kill him. Stupid wizard! 'You'll share your bathroom with whoever's in the next room.'" she imitated. "He knew all along! Stupid, _retarded_ old man!"

Legolas stared at her as though she had sprouted horns until she mentioned the "stupid wizard," at which point he became engrossed with suppressing his laughter. He was not successful; the sound of his quiet chuckling reached Kavila's ear.

She whirled on him, glaring. "Stop laughing and put your shirt on!"

Legolas stopped laughing. "My tunic is in my room," he replied, grinning.

Kavila rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'm done in here anyways." She walked forward, keeping her eyes firmly locked on a point on the wall above his head, until she was close enough to grab the hairbrush from his hand.

"Pardon me, my lady, but may I ask why you are taking my hairbrush?" Legolas asked as she turned to leave.

"Because it's mine!" she retorted.

In answer Legolas walked over to a shelf near the bathtub and retrieved a hairbrush that had been placed on top of it. "I believe this is your hairbrush," he said, handing it to her. "Now would you kindly return mine?"

She snatched her hairbrush from his hand, slapping the other one into his palm as hard as she could. He winced, and she immediately regretted her action. Part of her was surprised she had even managed to hurt him; she was often teased by her friends because she never followed through on her threats of hitting people. "I'm sorry! Are you all right? I didn't mean to hurt you!" she exclaimed.

"It certainly felt as though you did," he chuckled. "Fear not, it merely stings."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I'm sorry."

"Yes, I am certain," he replied. "And all is well. Are you certain you need nothing further here?"

"Yeah," Kavila answered, suddenly aware of the awkwardness of the moment—and how close she was to the bare-chested Elf. She wanted nothing more than to be gone.

"Very well." Legolas said, stepping back. "I shall see you at the banquet."

Kavila nodded and fled, seething with embarrassment and anger at Gandalf.

ERIN TOOK a deep breath to steady herself amidst the overwhelming mix of strange smells and sounds. All around her people dressed in fine cloths talked and sampled the delectable foods provided by the cooks of Minas Tirith in honor of the return of the King. In the background minstrels played soft music, beautiful flutes and stringed instruments in whose music Erin lost herself more than once during the dinner.

The new King himself sat at the head of the high table, with Faramir, Imrahil, Eomer, and many of the counselors of Gondor, as well as Gandalf and Elrond's sons and Frodo and Sam. At the lower tables sat many lesser officials of the Gondorian government, Erin and her friends, and others such as Legolas and Gimli, between whom Erin had been sandwiched.

In fact, she was currently engaged in a rather one-sided conversation with Gimli, who was regaling her with tales of the crafts of his home. Though Erin had tried several times to steer the discussion toward Dwarven history, about which she admittedly knew very little, Gimli always managed to return to praising the skills of Dwarven craftsmen. Not that Erin particularly minded; Gimli's descriptions were a feast for the imagination, although several times Erin suppressed a laugh at his enthusiasm.

After perhaps a half-hour of this, Legolas leaned around Erin and interrupted Gimli's latest tale. "Surely the Dwarf bores you with his tales of gold and jewels, Lady Erin," he said, as Gimli sputtered with indignation.

"Not really, my lord," Erin replied as she sipped her wine, using the glass to hide her laughter at Gimli's reaction. A servant reached by her briefly to remove her plate, whose contents she had recently finished. She wasn't sure what the proper term for the dessert was, but it had contained a great deal of sweet fruit and had been positively delicious. "I should dearly love to see some of the works he speaks of so effusively."

"Far more lovely than any jewels that Elf might show you," Gimli grumbled, and Erin was unable to repress a laugh.

"I'll have you know, Master Dwarf, that the artisans of Mirkwood far outdo any Dwarf, for they have had millennia in which to hone their craft," Legolas retorted.

"Aye, and millennia they would need to match the skill of the Dwarves," Gimli replied as he finished off a mug of ale.

"Children, children!" Erin laughed in mock reproach, receiving two glares for her efforts.

"I am no child!" Gimli retorted.

"I have lived more than four millennia in this land!" Legolas added.

"So you have," Erin replied judiciously. "and though it shows in your battle skills, you demonstrate the maturity of children when around each other."

Before Legolas or Gimli could reply, Faramir rose and called for silence. "Long have we of Gondor fought against the might of Sauron, and long has the King's throne sat empty. Now both these ills have been rectified. Let us celebrate our good fortune, and hope for peaceful days ahead under this just king, Elessar Telcontar!" And all the guests drank a toast to the new King.

Then Aragorn rose and spoke. "Blessed am I, to rule such a great land, and with this good man to aid me! Many will be the days of peace, though perhaps we must suffer a little more battle and bloodshed to rid the land of the evil of the Orcs. But now let us celebrate, and rejoice that we have survived these dark times and gathered again in these halls!" He turned to the minstrels. "Play us a lively tune! Let the dancing begin!"

Erin grinned and cheered along with everyone else, as the minstrels struck up an energetic melody. She had come to look forward to dances in Middle Earth; there were many more men than women, and thus she never lacked a partner.

Couples began to move onto the dance floor: Faramir and Eowyn, Sarah and Kalva, Adrienne and Imrahil. Aragorn was also there, dancing with a woman Erin didn't recognize. There were several ladies of the court attending, wives and daughters of counselors or military officers.

Erin glanced around her. Legolas had disappeared, doubtless to try and cajole Kavila into a dance; Gimli had wandered down to where the hobbits were singing and dancing. Nearly everyone had risen and now moved about, chatting and observing the dancers.

Suddenly Erin heard a throat being cleared behind her. She turned in her seat to find Eomer, wearing black leggings and a tunic of rich maroon fabric, his strawberry-blond hair falling in waves about his shoulders. Erin's heart sped up significantly as he took her hand and kissed it. "Lady Erin, are you enjoying yourself this eve?"

Erin coughed briefly to recover her voice before speaking. "Yes, my lord Eomer. The music is beautiful, and the food was delicious. I'm sure I ate far too much."

For a moment Erin held her breath, afraid she had been too casual, but Eomer laughed. "Not too much to dance, I hope?" he asked. "It would please me greatly to be the first to claim you for a dance."

"Of course, my lord," Erin managed, rising. Her napkin, which she had spread in her lap during the meal, fell to the floor. Cursing her clumsiness Erin bent to pick it up, but Eomer reached it first. As he placed it on the table Erin straightened, smoothing her dress self-consciously. It was the periwinkle-colored one she had worn when they first arrived. Though Eomer couldn't know that it was her only dress, Erin still suppressed a surge of anxiety as he turned and beheld her entire form for the first time.

Eomer didn't miss a step, offering his arm with a smile. "That dress suits you well, my lady. You outshine all the other ladies here!"

Erin blushed slightly as she modestly looked away. She wasn't used to receiving such compliments! "Thank you, my lord." She noticed they were approaching the dance floor, and a shiver of nervousness passed through her. She had danced a few times at gatherings in Ithilien, but those had been far more casual. "I am afraid I should apologize beforehand for stepping on your toes—I'm quite a klutz."

"Klutz?" Eomer repeated, puzzled. Erin gave herself a mental slap. _That's right, point out all your faults right away_, she chided herself.

"I'm sorry—it's a term from my world. It means someone who is very clumsy." Erin replied quickly.

Eomer chuckled. "Do not fear. I have been told I am not bad at dancing. You need only follow my lead."

Then they reached the dance floor, and Erin turned all her attention to following Eomer's steps. She found that, as he had said, it was not all that difficult as long as she let him guide her. Soon she was laughing out of sheer delight as they maneuvered between the other whirling couples. One dance became two, and then many. Somehow, Erin didn't mind at all.

MEGAN looked around her for the millionth time that night, wishing vainly for some form of escape. She had been seated near the hobbits Merry and Pippin, who had displayed their usual insatiable curiosity—about Earth. They had pelted her with questions during the entire meal, until she pleaded a few minutes to eat.

She had keenly felt the gazes of those around her, who were also interested in her tales. But she would have given anything to be somewhere else—some of the stares were distinctly unfriendly, and made her even more conscious of the fact that she and her friends did not fit into this world.

No one questioned her tale; the rumors had spread quickly about Megan and her friends. Megan was quite sure the entire city knew of their origins. It was very disconcerting to walk through the streets and feel the stares of so many, and to see them pointing and whispering as you passed. Megan and her friends had received first-hand experience when they entered the city in the King's procession. Erin and Adrienne, seemingly oblivious to it, had been busy pointing out various features of the city to their friends; but Sarah and Kavila had also noticed. Megan suspected that she and her friends would have to deal with the suspicion for a very long time, before they would be accepted by the people of Minas Tirith.

The hobbits finally stopped asking questions when Faramir rose and made his toast. Megan could not have been more grateful to Aragorn when he called for dancing, as Merry and Pippin promptly departed to find Frodo and Sam and start a hobbit-style dance. For several minutes Megan sat in peace, listening to the music and watching the dancers.

Her reverie was interrupted, however, by a voice behind her. "My lady?"

She turned to see a boy of about ten years, dressed in court finery, regarding her with an expression of mixed awe and hopefulness. _Probably the son of a counselor or something_, she thought, smiling kindly at the boy. "Yes?"

"Might I ask you a question, lady—" he paused.

"Megan," she supplied, hiding a smile. He was a model of civility, a little gentleman. "And what would you ask me?"

A brief flash of anxiety showed in his face, but curiosity won out. "Are you truly…from another world, lady Megan?"

Megan hid her annoyance behind a soft laugh. "Yes, I am. But at least I now know my world and yours are the same in one way: young boys are always curious. What is your name?"

The boy bowed his head slightly in embarrassment at the soft rebuke. "Cenroth, son of Manser, my lady."

"And is your father a counselor of the King, Cenroth?" she asked.

The boy held his head higher. "No, my lady. He is a captain in the army of the City."

"An army man?" Megan said. "Is he well, after all these great battles?"

"He was injured, my lady, but he is glad he survived," Cenroth replied, then paused, as if he wanted to continue speaking.

"Is there something else you would like to ask me?" Megan said, and he cleared his throat self-consciously.

"I had hoped you might share a dance with me, Lady Megan," he replied, his nervousness clear. Megan suppressed a laugh—he was such a cute little boy!

"I would be honored to dance with such a gentleman," she said, grinning as the boy's face lit up. "But I fear you shall have to guide me. Being from another world, I'm afraid I don't know your dances."

"Of course, my lady," Cenroth replied, offering his arm. Megan rose and placed her arm in his. The boy was tall enough that it was not a particularly awkward position. Megan soon discovered that whoever had taught Cenroth to dance had taught him well; she had no trouble at all following his lead, and they both managed not to step on each other's toes too many times. At times they rested, sitting at the tables, and Megan would tell Cenroth stories of Earth. She found that it was actually pleasant to talk with him, probably because he did not constantly pester her with questions, instead listening attentively as she spoke. When Cenroth's parents came to escort him home near the end of the celebration, Megan's assurances that she had spent a wonderful evening with him were quite genuine.

AFTER several lively dances, Sarah and Kalva retreated to one of the stone balconies to rest and cool off. Sarah leaned against the stone-carved railing, letting the wind toss her hair back from her face, tilting her head back as she reveled in the feel of cool air. She took a deep breath, savoring the freshness and cleanness of the air in her lungs after the warm, slightly smoky atmosphere of the ballroom.

Next to her Kalva came and stood, looking down upon the city. Laughter and music drifted up from the celebrations of the common cityfolk, lights winking in and out as people danced about the fires. Sarah turned to watch them as well, noting the longing expression on Kalva's face.

"Sounds like they're having fun," she remarked offhandedly.

"Yes…" Kalva replied absentmindedly, lost in thought. His gaze never wavered from the city below as he continued, "Usually I too would celebrate among them."

Sarah felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry."

Kalva turned to her with an expression of confusion. "What for?"

"If it hadn't been for me and my friends, you would be there. We came in and just…upended your life." Sarah replied, dropping her gaze to where her hands clutched the stone.

She jumped when Kalva draped an arm about her shoulders. "Ah, but you have changed my life for the better." Still, she noted his gaze lingered on the fires of the celebrations below.

Suddenly an idea came to her, and she turned to face Kalva. "Couldn't we…couldn't we just go down there? I mean we've spent some time here, and I doubt Aragorn would take it personally if you wanted to take me to, um, 'meet your family'."

Kalva chuckled. "You are not dressed properly to join the common celebrations. They would think you a sea-spirit."

Sarah turned away to hide her blush; she still wasn't used to receiving such compliments. "I don't look _that_ good," she said softly.

But Kalva ignored her protest. "I have spoken of my sister to you, have I not?" Sarah nodded slowly, confused by the sudden change of subject, and Kalva continued. "I do not think she would take it amiss if you borrowed a dress from her. I believe they will fit; you have similar builds."

Sarah glanced up hopefully. From the sounds below it seemed the common people were having a great deal of fun, far more than she and Kalva were having here. Not that the hobbits weren't hilarious to watch, the minstrels' songs beautiful, or the food delicious, but Sarah had realized within minutes of entering the room that she was way out of her depth. Kalva had been similarly uncomfortable among the rich dress and formal speech of the lords and ladies.

"Come," said Kalva, smiling conspiratorially. "I am sure we can plead weariness after the long journey and today's excitement."

Sarah grinned back at him. "I'm sure," she replied in a completely neutral tone. Kalva took her arm and led her back into the ballroom, maneuvering around the dancers until they reached the door. Sarah caught Kalva's arm suddenly. "Someone ought to know we're gone." she said when he looked at her questioningly.

She caught sight of Gandalf, watching the antics of the hobbits nearby. She went to him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Gandalf?"

He turned with a rather inebriated grin and a puff of his pipe. "Lady Sarah! Kalva! Are you enjoying yourselves?"

Sarah coughed and contrived to appear weary. "Yes, but I'm afraid I'm a bit tired. Kalva's going to take me back to my room. Could you tell my friends I'm gone, if they ask?"

"Of course! Good evening to you both!" Gandalf replied, turning back to the hobbits with another puff of smoke.

"I'm sorry," Sarah said as they left the hall, her long blue dress flowing about her ankles. "It's a habit from my world. It doesn't feel right to go somewhere without someone knowing I'm gone."

"Is your world not safer than ours?" Kalva asked her as they walked through the halls of the Citadel.

"No, not really. I mean, we have police who are supposed to monitor everything and help people who are in danger, but they can't be everywhere. There are still lots of kidnappings and shootings and murders," Sarah replied with a sigh. They walked in silence for a time, soft shoes making little noise upon the floor. After many minutes they reached the doors of the palace.

Passing through with a nod to the guards, they stepped into the cool night. "I shall take you by the back ways," Kalva told her. "You will draw much attention otherwise, dressed so finely."

He then proceeded to lead Sarah on a midnight journey through the back streets of Minas Tirith. Sarah felt like an actor in some mystery or detective movie. They ducked behind buildings at the slightest hint of a passerby, took elaborate routes around bonfires, and generally made utter fools of themselves; it was the most fun Sarah had had in a long time.

Finally, after many long minutes of sneaking, Kalva stopped before a small but neatly kept house. The tiny garden was filled with tidy rows of vegetables and flowerbeds. Though the house was dark, Kalva quickly produced a key and let them inside.

For several moments Sarah blinked owlishly at the darkness, listening as Kalva moved around the house. She heard a thump, then another, followed by a curse that Sarah couldn't make out. At last he found and lit a candle, splashing the walls with soft, flickering light. Sarah felt a brief pang as she took in the ordered, inviting, _lived-in_ house. A wave of homesickness crashed over her as she suddenly wished that she could see her own home, filled with her own family's personal touches.

Kalva moved through a door at the back of the room, which Sarah realized was a small sitting room and kitchen. He paused and looked back at her. "My sister's room is down this hall."

Sarah followed quickly, staying within the circle of light that Kalva's candle cast. After passing one door to the left, he disappeared through a doorway to the right. Sarah followed, finding herself in a small, rather plain room that nevertheless unmistakably belonged to a girl. The hair ribbons and comb upon the chest of drawers were testament to that, as was the neatly made bed.

Kalva smiled fondly at the dresser, which had three drawers. "I made that for her," he said, pulling open the bottom drawer. Inside were several dresses of plain cloth, which Sarah knelt down to look through. First was a dress of navy blue with white sleeves and patterning. Beneath it Sarah found a light pink dress, which she quickly moved past. Under no circumstances would she be caught wearing _pink_.

The next dress caught her attention. It was a deep, slightly reddish brown, with a single white flower patterned upon the breast. Sarah attempted to imagine how it would look on her, but she had never worn brown. Still…_why not?_ she asked herself. _Maybe it'll look good_.

"I like this one," she said aloud, and Kalva helped her lift it out. He untied a couple of fastenings on Sarah's fancy court dress that she hadn't been able to reach and stood back.

"Umm…could you step outside?" Sarah asked pointedly.

Kalva blushed heavily. "Of course. I shall go change into something more appropriate. I will leave one candle here."

Sarah quickly slipped on the dress, pleased to find that it was much less complicated than the dress she had worn to the court dance. She adjusted it, hoping it looked decent; there was no mirror to see, and she didn't know if she was supposed to wear some petticoats or something underneath it.

She grabbed the candle and stepped into the hall, feeling more like herself than she had all night. The fancy clothing and gourmet meal—not to mention the well-spoken, noble people—had overwhelmed Sarah and left her feeling like the uncivilized, middle-class young woman she was.

The hall was utterly dark except for a small circle of light coming from the last doorway. Sarah moved toward it cautiously, watching her step in the unfamiliar house. A floorboard creaked beneath her feet, and she heard Kalva's voice from the lighted room. "Sarah?"

"I'm coming," she replied, moving more quickly. As she drew closer she heard muffled curses coming from within the room; Sarah hurried forward, calling out to him. "Kalva, are you—"

She peered through the door only to find Kalva standing in the center of the room, struggling to get his shirt on over his splint. The warden of the Healing Houses had allowed him to take off the sling, but required that he wear the splint for awhile more. Trying to ignore the fact that Kalva was shirtless, Sarah moved to aid him. By the time the shirt was safely in place, both she and Kalva were blushing bright red.

"I'm sorry—" Sarah began.

"Thank you—" Kalva started at the same moment. They stared at each other in surprise for a few seconds, and then burst out laughing as the absurdity of the situation hit them. For many minutes the sound of their mirth was the only noise that could be heard in the room, until Kalva straightened and spoke. "The sea-spirit has become a common woman!" he exclaimed in mock astonishment. Sarah blushed and looked at her feet. Kalva touched her chin and gently brought her eyes back to his. "But no less beautiful for the transformation," he added.

Sarah's blush deepened, and she laughed a little to cover her embarrassment. "You look nice, too," she said—and meant it. Instead of the dark green shirt he had worn to the court dance, Kalva wore a deep blue tunic of rougher fabric. It didn't detract from his looks at all, Sarah thought.

Kalva bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement of the compliment, then offered her his good arm. "Come," he said. "I think that we are at last ready to join the celebrations."

Sarah couldn't help a grin. "Let's go!" she agreed.

KAVILA experienced a bolt of pure trepidation when Aragorn announced the end of dinner. That meant dancing, and dancing meant Legolas, something she could certainly have done without tonight. The evening had been pleasant enough thus far, but she was sure it would go downhill from here.

Right on cue, a musical voice enquired from her right elbow, "Lady Kavila, you seem unhappy. Are you well?"

Kavila turned to him, forcing a smile. "I'm fine." _I _was_ fine_, she ranted mentally. _Then you had to come along and ruin the evening_. She would never say such a thing aloud, however; the courtesy that had been ingrained in her since infancy would not allow it.

"Then may I have the honor of a dance?" Legolas persisted.

Kavila was severely tempted to decline, but once again that would have been supremely rude. "Um…sure…" she said, laughing nervously.

Legolas wasn't deterred at all by the less-than-enthusiastic answer. He just smiled one of his gentle, understanding smiles that made her heart leap and offered his arm. In moments they had joined the whirling dancers, and Kavila turned her attention to the music and the steps, trying not to think about whom she was dancing with. She had nearly managed to lose herself in the lively tune when Legolas leaned close and broke her concentration, speaking softly. "Look," he nodded to her left, "I do believe Lady Erin is enjoying herself."

Kavila glanced over and found herself laughing. Erin was dancing with…Eomer, was it, literally beaming at him. Not that he wasn't looking at her the same way—that was what made it so hilarious. And, of course, the knowledge that Kavila could tease Erin mercilessly about it tomorrow.

Suddenly the tune changed and the pace of the dance quickened significantly. Kavila once again turned her concentration to her own feet, looking everywhere but at Legolas. She found that rather difficult, actually; he was staring at her, and there was a part of her that wanted very much to return his gaze and fall into those beautiful blue eyes…_No! No, Kavi, you retarded git! His eyes are _not_ beautiful!_

Then the fast dance ended, replaced by a much slower, softer tune. Kavila saw the couples around her move closer as the pace slowed, and her heartbeat sped up measurably. She did _not_ want to end up in that position with Legolas! She had to find a way to get off this dance floor! Suddenly an idea came to her, and she sagged a little in his arms.

"Kavila? Are you well?" he asked in a concerned tone.

"Yes…I'm just tired," she said, injecting weariness into her voice. "Could we rest for a song or two?"

"Of course!" Legolas answered, supporting her as he led her to a seat. She sank into it gratefully. She really wasn't tired at all; she had danced far longer and more intensely than this at Hindi dances. In fact, most of the people here probably wouldn't last more than a few minutes at a full-blown _garba_ dance. She tried to imagine them—Aragorn, the hobbits, all the lords and ladies, even Legolas—doing _garba,_ and couldn't help laughing out loud.

"Pray tell, Lady Kavila, what do you find so amusing?" Legolas asked her.

Kavila turned to look at him and burst out laughing again as an image of Legolas in Indian clothes attempting to dance _garba_ appeared in her mind. "I…I'm sorry…" she gasped out finally. "I was just…imagining all the people here doing _garba_…" She started to chuckle again.

Legolas smiled tolerantly. "What is _garba_?"

Kavila finally managed to control herself. "It's a type of dancing that my people do…we use sticks, and hit them together as we dance…" she sighed. "It's hard to explain in words."

"Then perhaps you might teach me," Legolas replied, smiling. At that moment two more familiar faces appeared in the crowd: Aragorn and Faramir. Aragorn caught sight of Kavila and Legolas and smiled a greeting, directing Faramir towards them. As they drew closer Aragorn leaned close to Faramir and said something into the Steward's ear; Faramir chuckled and nodded.

Beside her Legolas rose, and Kavila hurried to follow him. He bowed deeply to them, and Kavila curtsied neatly. "Are you enjoying yourselves?" Aragorn asked good-naturedly.

"Good food, good wine, and a quick dancing partner? But of course, my lord!" Legolas replied. Kavila averted her eyes for a few moments as her cheeks heated.

"And you, my lady?" Aragorn asked her.

Kavila hesitated before answering. "As Legolas said, the food and drink are very enjoyable."

"And your dancing partner?" Faramir enquired teasingly.

Kavila smirked, seeing an opportunity to get Legolas back. "I've had better."

Aragorn laughed aloud, seeing the hurt expression on Legolas's face. "And who have you danced with who is more graceful than our Elven prince?"

Kavila considered. "Well, I danced with Gimli at the last gathering in Ithilien, and he wasn't too bad."

Legolas spluttered as Aragorn and Faramir burst into full-throated guffaws.

"A wonderful jest," Faramir exclaimed when he had caught his breath. "If you have danced with so many, you must be in high demand as a dancing partner! Would you grace me with a dance, Lady Kavila?"

Kavila leaped at the chance to get away from Legolas. "How could I decline?" she answered, rising with a smile. Within moments they had disappeared into the crowd.

Aragorn regarded his somewhat dejected friend with a soft smile. "You must be careful, my friend. Like a timid little bird, you will frighten her away."

Legolas sighed. "I know, Aragorn. 'Tis difficult."

Aragorn placed a hand on the Elf's shoulder sympathetically. "Perhaps you should dance with Eowyn. She is quite nimble." When Legolas looked up to protest, Aragorn continued. "Do not sit here and sulk all night, my friend! 'Tis a joyous occasion!" He lowered his voice again. "If you watch Kavila constantly and refuse all other dance partners, you may frighten her away."

"I suppose," Legolas replied. "I shall take some wine, and then I shall find Eowyn."

Aragorn smiled. "Patience, my friend. You have never displayed a lack of it."

"Ah," said Legolas. "But never has my patience been so tried."

ADRIENNE surveyed the dancers with a content smile, sipping a glass of water. She had drunk wine at dinner, out of courtesy to tradition, but didn't want to risk becoming truly inebriated. For now she merely sat and drank her water, soothing her throat, which had become dry with all the laughter and talking she had done this evening.

Not that that was all she had done; she had danced quite a bit as well with various partners: Aragorn, Faramir, a couple of courtiers, even Gandalf.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Adrienne?" The title was spoken in a teasing tone. Adrienne turned, smiling, to face Dregor. The hardened ranger looked somewhat out of place in the rich garb of a courtier, a navy tunic and black leggings transforming him into the stereotypical tall, dark, handsome ranger. She was taken aback for a moment, used to seeing him in somewhat worn and dirty clothing appropriate for sword practice.

"I am indeed," Adrienne replied after a moment with a perfect curtsey. "But what, exactly, were you implying by that tone of voice, hm? Should I perhaps take offense?"

"'Twould grieve me much if you took offense by me, fair lady," Dregor said, but his twinkling gaze belied his careful words. "I merely meant that you seem about as used to all this finery and extravagance as a fish to land. Forgive me, but I had become used to the spirited swordswoman I have trained for the past several weeks; I find myself chuckling at this dainty, graceful wraith which has taken her place."

"Are you saying that I can't pull off the whole 'upperclass lady' act?" Adrienne asked indignantly. "I thought I was doing quite well."

Dregor laughed. "Oh, you are doing quite well, to the eyes of one who knows you not. But I know that beneath that fine dress is a heart which yearns for the sword and the saddle."

Adrienne sighed, all joy gone from her face. "Yes, and therein lies the problem." She turned eyes dark with disquiet to Dregor. "There's no place for me here in Middle Earth. I'm not a proper, well-mannered woman whose only desire is to marry and have children."

Dregor's expression softened, his weathered face crinkling into a soft smile. "Among the Rangers, we often teach women the sword and bow. It is a land filled with danger, and we cannot always protect our wives and daughters."

"Do you…are you married?" Adrienne asked hesitantly.

Dregor's lips twitched in a sad smile. "Nay. I have not yet found a wife."

"Oh." Adrienne didn't know what to say. For several moments she and Dregor stood in silence.

"Ah, look what I have done!" Dregor exclaimed finally. "I have ruined a perfectly merry evening with such sober discussions. Come, let us dance."

Adrienne felt suddenly, inexplicably weary. "No, I don't think so…I'm quite tired."

Dregor nodded amiably. "Then let me escort you to your room."

Adrienne raised an eyebrow indignantly. "I don't need an escort."

"Perhaps not," Dregor chuckled. "May I walk with you, then?"

Adrienne nodded once. "You're learning."

"Learning what?" Dregor asked, somewhat perplexed.

"How to handle us foreign women. We're too independent for your society." Adrienne declared half in jest. Dregor just laughed.

Suddenly both were surprised to hear an answering laugh, far too high and giddy for the person it belonged to. Adrienne turned to see Kavila, leaning heavily on Legolas's arm, laughing with utter abandon at something he had said. Legolas gazed down on her fondly, looking up when he felt eyes on him.

Adrienne was instantly at Kavila's side. "I'm thirsty!" the girl declared loudly as Adrienne took her other hand. Adrienne could see that Kavila was, yes, most definitely drunk. The absurdity of that idea occurred to her suddenly, and she found herself chuckling. Kavila, _drunk_? She would never have imagined it could happen!

Then Legolas offered Kavila a glass of something, in response to her earlier complaint. Adrienne caught a glimpse inside the silver glass, and realized at least in part what had happened. As far as she knew, water was _not_ red.

"You're giving her _wine_?" Adrienne exclaimed angrily to Legolas. The Elven prince looked somewhat abashed.

"I merely brought her one glass. I did not realize it would have such effect upon her," he replied defensively.

"Didn't realize!" Adrienne turned and remarked disgustedly to Dregor, who walked beside her, attempting to stifle his own laughter. "Legolas, this is probably the first time in her life she's had anything alcoholic to drink! She had a glass at dinner, and then she had this one…of course she's going to get drunk!"

But the rebuke Adrienne was attempting to give Legolas was postponed when Kavila caught sight of Gandalf. "Gandalf, I have to talk to you!" she slurred. He turned, none too steady himself.

"Ah, Lady Kavila! It seems you are enjoying yourself!" he laughed as Adrienne glared. _Far _too_ much_, she fumed mentally.

Kavila shook off Legolas and Adrienne's hands and walked forward alone, an irritated expression on her face. "I'm very mad at you!" she declared when she was within touching range of the wizard. She jabbed her forefinger at him to emphasize her point. "Very mad!"

"Why would that be?" Gandalf answered, but the twinkle in his eye showed that he wasn't too far gone to realize why Kavila was angry with him.

"You…you put me in a room!" she said loudly. Gandalf just stared at her, smiling broadly but managing not to laugh. Adrienne had to admit Kavila made quite an amusing picture, even if she didn't approve. "With him!" Kavila finished, turning the jabbing forefinger on Legolas. She then proceeded to beam triumphantly at Gandalf, as if she had accomplished some monumental task. _Which, considering her state, she might have_, Adrienne reflected.

"Yes, I did," Gandalf replied. Either he liked living dangerously, or he was too drunk to realize the reaction such an answer was sure to provoke. "I trust you approve?"

"You…you knew! I knew you knew!" Kavila exclaimed. "You stupid old man! You retarded git! You…you…chuutya!" Adrienne decided this would be a good time to drag Kavila away. She knew about what had happened earlier in the afternoon between Kavila and Legolas, and figured a rational Kavila really wouldn't want the entire court to share in that knowledge. She also figured Gandalf's next questions would reveal at least part of the incident; either that, or Kavila would blurt it out sometime soon here. Not a good situation either way.

Adrienne threw a glance at Legolas and started forward. The wizard was literally shaking with the effort of holding in his laughter. Still yelling strange Hindi words, Kavila let herself be led away and calmed down. "Kavila, Kavila, shh…be quiet, it'll be alright, shh…" Adrienne soothed in the dimly lighted hallway. She was somewhat astonished when Kavila's nearly hysterical anger transformed into wracking sobs. "I hate Legolas," she cried. Cradling Kavila against the wall, Adrienne saw Legolas close his eyes briefly in obvious sadness. When he reopened them, Adrienne mouthed "She's drunk," and Legolas nodded. "Well, I mean, I don't hate him…I don't like him though," Kavila continued.

"No, you don't hate him," Adrienne attempted to pacify her.

"Yes, I do," Kavila replied stubbornly. "He wouldn't put his shirt on."

Behind Kavila, Legolas's shoulders shook in silent chuckles. Adrienne threw him a warning glare before turning her attention back to Kavila. "Come on, I'll get you home, and you can go to sleep in your nice, warm bed…" Adrienne put emphasis on the "I'll" and Legolas, nodding his understanding, fell into step several feet behind them. Adrienne would have been far happier if he had just gone away, but she didn't want to say anything for fear of inciting another of Kavila's outbursts.

To Adrienne's initial consternation, Kavila suddenly broke down for the second time that night. "I wanna go home…" she slurred, sobbing brokenly against Adrienne's shoulder as Adrienne led her slowly down the hallway. "I miss Kitu, and Aki, and Mommy and Daddy, and Sangeetha, hiccup and Mary, and Jennifer, and hiccup Amy, and all my friends, and my hiccup teachers, and everybody at school, and all the people who come to Mommy and hiccup Daddy's parties, and—" She didn't get any farther, because at that moment she fell inelegantly into a deep slumber. Adrienne barely caught Kavila as she went completely limp.

In moments Legolas was at her side. "May I carry her?" he asked.

Adrienne looked at him critically. "I'm not sure I trust you."

Legolas seemed slightly offended. "I assure you, Lady Adrienne, I shall take excellent care of her."

Adrienne regarded him silently for a few more seconds, then looked up and down the hall to figure out where they were. Adrienne's room was only a few doors down, while Kavila's was several doors further. Still, it wasn't that far…

"How much have you drunk?" she asked the Elf suspiciously.

"I assure you, I am quite sober," he replied haughtily. "I have only had two glasses, and it requires more than two glasses of wine to—"

"To get you tipsy," Adrienne finished for him. "Yes, yes, fine, take her. Just be gentle with her."

"But of course," Legolas said, gathering Kavila's limp form into his arms. "I shall see you tomorrow, my lady, my lord." He bowed slightly to Adrienne and Dregor. Adrienne noticed with a silent chuckle as he turned away that Kavila was, yes, actually snuggling up against his chest.

When he had gone, Dregor turned to Adrienne. "What was that about a shirt?" he asked, eyes twinkling mischievously.

Adrienne rolled her eyes. "Forget you ever heard that," she said. "Kavila would kill me if I told you." Dregor continued to look petulant. "Maybe I'll tell you tomorrow," Adrienne said. "Just let me get to sleep tonight—I'm too tired to do anything except collapse on a bed."

"Very well," said Dregor, smiling. "Oh, I had meant to speak with you…"

"About what?" Adrienne asked, curious despite her fatigue.

"You mentioned that you took sword lessons at one of the armories?" he asked, and she nodded. "Vilad's armory, on the fifth level."

"If you wish, I shall meet you there after lunch—one hour past noon?" he said, and Adrienne nodded gleefully. "Definitely. See you there!"

"Farewell, and good dreams," Dregor said, and Adrienne returned the farewell before disappearing into her room, certain that she would indeed have good dreams after the lively evening.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

KAVILA awoke to a knock on the door. The sunlight lanced into her eyelids as painfully as steel, and her head pounded as though a blacksmith were working within. She moved as though to rise and answer the door, but even the slightest movement sent bile shooting into her mouth and her stomach into furious paroxysms of nausea. No, she was not going to get the door; whoever was there would just have to come back later. _Like next week_, she reflected. At the moment she wasn't even sure that would be long enough.

Her slight attempts at movement also brought another issue to her attention: she was still wearing her dress from last night. She must have been so tired that she had just collapsed into the bed…right? She remembered most of the dinner and dance, up until after Legolas had found her a second time…and had given her wine to drink. After that her mind was a blank. _Oh dear God_, she realized with horror, _I must have been drunk_. She lay still for several moments as the terrible idea sank in. _I have to find someone who saw me_, she decided. _I have to know what I did. It'll be better to know than have someone like Legolas try and 'remind' me_. The very thought of Legolas 'reminding' her made Kavila want to sink into the floor and die of embarrassment.

Suddenly the door shook on its hinges as someone banged hard on it. "Kavila, damnit, open the freakin' door!" came Adrienne's voice.

Kavila took a deep breath and called. "I'm coming…be patient. I'm sick!"

From the other side of the door came a sound suspiciously similar to laughter. "Yes, I would imagine," came Erin's voice. _Oh great_, Kavila thought, _I've got a welcoming party_.

She managed to get the door unlocked before the nausea overwhelmed her. "Open!" she called, then turned and headed for the bathroom. She vaguely heard the door open behind her, followed by exclamations of worry and sympathy from her friends as they realized where she had gone.

"Kavi, you okay?" Erin called from the bedroom.

"Yeah, I'll survive," Kavila managed to return, before she was occupied with other concerns.

When she finally emerged, she groaned and hid her eyes behind her hands. Erin was throwing wide the curtains to reveal a clear and painfully sunny day. Emphasis on the painfully, Kavila reflected as her eyes smarted and the blacksmith in her head resumed his work with a vengeance.

"What time is it?" she grumbled as she collapsed once more on the bed.

"Time for you to be up and awake!" Erin returned, much too cheerfully. "We've got breakfast with the King in half an hour!"

"Tell him I'm sick," Kavila groaned.

"Ah, but then I would have to explain why!" Erin replied with a chuckle.

"He already knows anyway," Kavila mumbled. "I'm sure he saw me…"

"Making a drunken fool of yourself?" Erin finished for her. "Cursing at Gandalf in Hindi when your English vocabulary failed you? Oh, and lest we forget, allowing Legolas to carry you to bed?"

Kavila forgot about the bright light and dropped her hands, staring at Erin in utter horror. "I didn't!" she managed finally.

Adrienne returned from the bathroom. Kavila hadn't noticed her go in. "Oh, but you did. You fell asleep on your feet—literally. We weren't far from your room, and Legolas offered to put you to bed. I let him—it was probably much easier for him than it would have been for me. You were a dead weight."

"You…you…" Kavila seethed.

Adrienne grinned mischievously. "At least he didn't try to undress you or anything."

Kavila gave up all attempts at speech, reduced to squeaking, glaring, and waving her finger (her forefinger) angrily.

"Now, go into the bathroom, here's some more clothes—the tailors delivered them while we were at dinner—and don't forget to dunk your head in the basin of water. The water's good and cold, so it'll help. A shower might not be a bad idea either—nice and cold," Adrienne said, pushing a still-spluttering Kavila insistently toward the bathroom.

Roughly half an hour later Kavila emerged, much improved. She still didn't feel up to anything strenuous, mentally or physically, but she could manage breakfast. At least, she could sit at the table. Whether she could eat was yet to be discovered.

In the hallway they collected Sarah and Megan. Soon they reached the dining room where the King and his guests took their meals only to find all the others present, including—of course—the hobbits.

They took their places at the table and received their meals, Kavila noticing with a start that Aragorn was not present. Before she could remark upon it (and thus turn the conversation down a different course), Pippin spoke up from where he sat across the table from her. "Lady Kavila, are you unwell?"

Kavila stared for a moment, startled. "Well…yes, I'm a little sick. I guess something didn't agree with me at dinner last night."

All four of her friends suddenly found something in their breakfast very funny, as did Gandalf and Legolas.

Gandalf regained control of himself first. "Oh, Kavila," he began innocently, "I wanted to inquire, what does 'chuutya' mean?"

Kavila stared at him for several seconds in nothing less than utter horror. "You…I…You didn't tell me I said _that_!" she raged at her friends, who were laughing helplessly at the scene. "I…oh my God I didn't…"

"I take it that the term is not a compliment, then?" Gandalf chuckled.

"Um…not really…" Kavila muttered, fighting the urge to flee the table.

"You insulted _Gandalf_?" Pippin exclaimed.

"I wasn't exactly in full control of my wits," Kavila replied sarcastically. "I'm sorry, Gandalf."

"I took no offense," Gandalf said, smiling. "Though I would like to know what that word meant."

"No." Kavila declared firmly. "No, I am _not_ telling you. It's bad enough that I said it in the first place."

Erin took mercy on her. "Oh Sarah, where did _you_ go last night?" she asked in a teasing voice. "I saw you leave early in the dance."

"I…um, I went to bed." Sarah replied.

Erin raised an eyebrow. "You did not. Kalva didn't come back either. He would have come back if he had just escorted you to your room."

Sarah sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine. No, I didn't go to bed. I went out with Kalva."

Erin waited. "Out where?" she finally prompted.

"Out to visit his mom and sister," Sarah said.

"Oh, come on, Sarah!" Adrienne exclaimed. "Just tell us what happened!"

Sarah sighed resignedly. "We snuck out, back to his house, where I changed into one of his sister's dresses. Then we went out and celebrated with the other people, and I met his mom and his sister."

"And?" Erin prompted.  
Sarah gave her a puzzled look. "And what?"

"Oh come on, _something_ must have happened or you wouldn't be so determined to keep it quiet!" Adrienne said.

"No…not really…" Sarah said, remembering.

_Sarah laughed as Kalva took her arm and pulled her into the crowd of dancers. "Come, it isn't hard!" he called over the din of the wailing fiddle and lively drummer. She soon became caught up in the dance, which was not difficult at all, as Kalva had said. Though simple, it was also ridiculously fun. Sarah found herself laughing aloud, her lips aching from constantly smiling._

_When the dance was finished Kalva drew her aside to watch and rest. A new couple leaped in to take their place, stomping and whirling to the beat. It was somewhat similar to square-dancing, but not as complicated._

_Suddenly Kalva's face lit up as he caught sight of someone behind Sarah. She turned to see another girl, similar in features to Kalva, clothed in a green and white dress. Her cheeks were flushed with joy and perhaps a bit of drink as she called, "Kalva! 'Tis good to see you, brother!"_

_Kalva came forward and embraced her, chuckling. "Sarah, meet my sister Tara. Tara, this is Sarah."_

_Tara glanced from Sarah to Kalva for several moments before breaking into a pleased grin. "I am happy for you, Kalva."_

_Kalva stared at her for several moments, puzzled. "What do you mean?"_

"_It's quite obvious," Tara giggled. "You are practically glowing with joy and love." She scrutinized Sarah for a few moments. "You're one of those girls from another world, aren't you?"_

"_I…yes, I am," Sarah replied, flustered by the sudden question._

"_Well then, you shall have to come by and share a meal, so that we may listen to your tales. I'm sure you must have many." Tara replied. Sarah felt a wave of relief; Tara at least did not judge her for being 'different'. After the disdainful attitude many of the courtiers had showed her, it was a great relief to be treated that way. "Come on, this way, come meet Mother!"_

Erin spoke suddenly. "Gandalf, where is Aragorn?" she asked, voicing the question that Kavila had been so close to asking before.

"Aragorn? Ah, he decided to take his breakfast in his study. He has much work to do, and his audiences will begin in an hour." Gandalf replied.

"Audiences?" Erin repeated, puzzled.

"Yes, there is much business to be done, many agreements of peace to negotiate, many to pardon or condemn," Gandalf said. "Ah, which reminds me, I have arranged for an audience for you girls."

"An audience for us?" Adrienne said. "Why?"

"You must decide what professions you wish to pursue," Gandalf said.

"But…we're not going to be here forever!" Kavila exclaimed, a hint of panic in her voice. She missed the brief look of pain on Legolas's face.

"No, perhaps not," Gandalf said. "And as soon as the King is settled, I shall turn my attention to the challenge of sending you home to Earth. But I do not know how long this may take me. You ought to occupy yourselves until such time as I come upon a solution to your problem."

"So…what options have we got?" Erin asked, eager as ever.

Gandalf chuckled. "Many indeed. Aragorn shall help you decide. But I must bid you farewell for now; the audiences will begin soon, and I wish to observe them. Though my task is accomplished, I cannot yet rid myself of the sense of responsibility for this land which I have carried for so long." He sighed and rose.

"Should we come to the throne room now?" Erin asked quickly.

"No, your audience shall be later," Gandalf replied. "You should make your way to the throne room after the noon meal." Then he wished them farewell and left.

The five girls picked at their food for a few more minutes, but none of them was truly thinking about food. Even Kavila had relegated her embarrassment about the previous evening to the back of her mind, her illness forgotten. After almost ten minutes, they left the table and returned to their rooms separately, each lost in their own thoughts.

IN THE days that followed his crowning the King sat on his throne in the Hall of the Kings and pronounced his judgments. And embassies came from many lands and peoples, from the East and the South, and from the borders of Mirkwood, and from Dunland in the west. And the King pardoned the Easterlings that had given themselves up, and sent them away free, and he made peace with the peoples of Harad; and the slaves of Mordor he released and gave to them all the lands about Lake Nurnen to be their own. And there were brought before him many to receive his praise and reward for their valour; and last the captain of the Guard brought to him Beregond to be judged.

And the King said to Beregond: "Beregond, by your sword blood was spilled in the Hallows, where that is forbidden. Also you left your post without leave of Lord or of Captain. For these things, of old, death was the penalty. Now therefore I must pronounce your doom.

"All penalty is remitted for your valour in battle, and still more because all that you did was for the love of the Lord Faramir. Nonetheless you must leave the Guard of the Citadel, and you must go forth from the City of Minas Tirith."

Then the blood left Beregond's face, and he was stricken to the heart and bowed his head. But the King said:

"So it must be, for you are appointed to the White Company, the Guard of Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, and you shall be its captain and dwell in Emyn Arnen in honour and peace, and in the service of him for whom you risked all, to save him from death."

And then Beregond, perceiving the mercy and justice of the King, was glad, and kneeling kissed his hand, and departed in joy and content. And Aragorn gave to Faramir Ithilien to be his princedom, and bade him dwell in the hills of Emyn Arnen within sight of the City.

"For," said he, "Minas Ithil in Morgul-vale shall be utterly destroyed, and though it may in time to come be made clean, no man may dwell there for many long years."

And last of all Aragorn greeted Eomer of Rohan, and they embraced, and Aragorn said: "Between us there can be no word of giving or taking, nor of reward; for we are brethren. In happy hour did Eorl ride from the North, and never has any league of peoples been more blessed, so that neither has ever failed the other, nor shall fail. Now, as you know, we have laid Theoden the Renowned in a tomb in the Hallows, and there he shall lie forever among the Kings of Gondor, if you will. Or if you desire it, we will come to Rohan and bring him back to rest with his own people."

And Eomer answered: "Since the day when you rose before me out of the green grass of the downs I have loved you, and that love shall not fail. But now I must depart for a while to my own realm, where there is much to heal and set in order. But as for the Fallen, when all is made ready we will return for him; but here let him sleep a while."

And Eowyn said to Faramir: "Now I must go back to my own land and look on it once again, and help my brother in his labour; but when one whom I long loved as father is laid at last to rest, I will return."

-Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

THE LUNCH meal was no different from breakfast. There was little conversation among the five girls, too consumed with their own considerations to engage in trivial discussions. The little talk they exchanged was hushed, subdued. They did not bring up the upcoming audience or the topics to be discussed there, nor did they talk of home.

Finally Adrienne stood up from the table, her expression set in an irritable frown as it had been since Gandalf had announced their audience to them. She had been forced to cancel her lesson with Dregor today, and though he had understood perfectly, she still didn't like it. But even more irritating was the fact that she felt she was losing control over her own life. Gandalf had arranged this audience, without consulting them, so that they could decide what their future would hold here. And they were supposed to decide this in one morning? A little warning would have been nice! And then Gandalf had mentioned that Aragorn would "help them decide." Adrienne had read that as "Aragorn will tell you if you are choosing something women shouldn't do," and that irked her very much. She felt like they were going to the Sorting Hat, but instead of being sorted into Houses they were being sorted into professions. Altogether she was not in a good mood.

"We're going to be late if we don't go," she said abruptly, and her friends followed her example silently. None of them spoke on the way to the throne room or once they had reached it, other than to greet those who recognized them and wished them well.

After perhaps a half-hour of silence Sarah spoke up. "Who's going to go first?" she asked, receiving four blank stares in answer. "I mean, is Erin going to go first like before, or what?"

"I think we should all go up there together, and come forward as Aragorn calls us," Erin said. Her friends nodded, returning to their introspection.

Finally, after nearly an hour of waiting, the secretary stepped forward to announce the next audience. "Will the ladies Adrienne, Erin, Kavila, Megan, and Sarah please come forth!"

They came forth, holding their heads high and betraying none of the anxiety that ate at each of them. Every eye in the room fixed on them as they walked slowly to kneel before the King's throne.

When they rose again, the King spoke, smiling kindly at them. "Though you are not of this world, you have proven yourselves to be valorous and of good character. And though you may one day return to your own land, for now I think you should establish yourselves in some profession, as an outlet for your energies and so that you might have the resources to provide for yourselves until the time of your departure. Do you agree?"

All five nodded. "Yes, my lord." they chorused.

"Very well," said Aragorn. "The occupation you wish to enter is your own choice. Do any of you know which skill you would learn?"

For several moments there was silence, and then Megan stepped forward. "My lord, I would like to learn the art of healing."

Aragorn smiled. "A wise choice. You have already proven you have some talent. It is settled; you shall become an apprentice in the Houses of Healing."

A few seconds later Kavila spoke up as well. "I, too, would like to become a healer, my lord."

"A fitting profession for you as well, gentle Kavila." Aragorn chuckled. "I shall arrange lessons for you alongside Lady Megan."

"Thank you, my lord." Kavila moved back to stand with her friends, her expression reflecting her relief that the decision was made.

The next period of silence was much longer, at last broken by Aragorn's chuckle. "There are three of you who have not yet spoken. Do none of you know what you would learn here?"

Sarah stepped forward suddenly, as if she had been pushed from behind. "I…I would like to learn a craft," she began.

"Tailoring and dress-making?" Aragorn asked. His almost teasing smile suggested he knew that she would decline.

"No." Sarah declared firmly. "I was thinking maybe making weapons…bows and arrows, maybe."

Aragorn grinned suddenly. "Ah! I believe I know exactly whom to apprentice you with. Kalva is not yet completely well, correct?"

"Yes, his arm is still in a sling, my lord," Sarah replied.

"I am sure he requires some aid in his shop," Aragorn continued. "He is a bowyer, is he not?"

"He is, my lord," Sarah answered, a smile brightening on her lips as she realized where Aragorn was going.

"I do not think he will mind instructing you in bow-making, if you repay him by assisting him in his shop," Aragorn concluded with a smile.

Sarah nodded. "No, he won't mind. Thank you, my lord."

Adrienne and Erin regarded her with a great deal of fear as she returned to them. "Why'd you have to finish so fast?" Erin hissed at her.

"I wasn't trying to draw it out!" Sarah whispered back.

Aragorn regarded Erin and Adrienne with an amused expression. "How might I have guessed that you would be the last to come forth with a decision?" he chuckled. "Is there no work here which interests you, Lady Erin?"

Erin drew in a sharp breath as she met his gaze. "I…no, my lord," she began, flustered by the sudden feeling of a hundred eyes on her. She stepped forward quickly, her face pale and her hands shaking. She never liked being called on to speak, in a classroom or in the throne room of the King of Gondor—it made no difference. She was struck with a terror that made her want to sit down and cry somewhere, her heart pounding and her hands clammy with sweat. "The problem is quite the opposite, my lord. I find that there are too many subjects which I would like to study."

Aragorn laughed. "And what might those subjects be?"

Erin took a deep breath. "I would like to continue my instruction in swordwork and archery, and learn horseback riding and tracking," she said. "But I am also very interested in the various languages, cultures, and histories of Middle Earth. I haven't had the privilege of visiting the library yet, but I have been looking forward to it for quite some time. I'd like to learn music, not singing, but perhaps harp-playing. I used to play the flute back in my world, but it was very different from the flutes played here." She took another breath. "I think that's about it."

Aragorn shook his head. "I see your predicament," he chuckled. "Is there no subject which particularly fascinates you?"

Erin considered for many moments. "Well, I'd been leaning toward the book-learning—learning about the languages and cultures and history. I don't want to be a councilor, but maybe a tutor?" she looked to Aragorn for approval.

"I could certainly arrange for lessons, if you wish," he said.

Erin thought for a few more moments before nodding. "Yes…yes, I think that is what I would like to do. The other subjects I can pursue in my free time."

"Very well," Aragorn said. "I shall arrange lessons for you." Erin retreated, breathing much easier now that her ordeal was over, and feeling generally satisfied with herself. Yes, she reflected, she had made the right choice. This was what she wanted to do. Now she wanted to collapse into a chair somewhere and try to think about something else; as the tension drained from her, so did her strength.

"Lady Adrienne, if you will step forth," Aragorn said, and Adrienne did so. She wasn't nervous as much from the idea of being up here in front of everyone, but more because she had little idea what the result of this discussion would be. "I would guess that you are in the same predicament as Lady Erin?"

"Somewhat, my lord," Adrienne replied neutrally.

"Somewhat? That seems rather indecisive," Aragorn remarked. "Come, tell me what you would learn, as Lady Erin did."

"I…I am most interested in the study of military skills, I think," Adrienne began. "I am learning swordwork from Vilad and from Lord Dregor, but I would also like to learn horseback riding and tracking, as well as wilderness survival. I would like to study music and lore like Erin said, and also healing and herbs, but not as much as the other things."

Aragorn frowned a little. "And what profession would such skills lead you to?"

"I would like to join the army, my lord." Adrienne declared, deciding to get it all out in the open. She heard several gasps throughout the room, and even Aragorn looked a little surprised. It was answer enough for her.

Before Aragorn could reply, another voice spoke up from the crowd. "My lord, if I might speak…?" It was Dregor.

Aragorn nodded, and Dregor continued. "Lady Adrienne has expressed her desire to join the army, but I believe she would not be wholly…comfortable among them. I would extend to her instead an offer of training and eventually a place among the Dunedain, with your permission, my lord."

Aragorn smiled. "My permission is granted." He turned to Adrienne. "Do you wish to join the Rangers of the North, Lady Adrienne?"

Adrienne bowed her head for a moment, thinking furiously. She could see what Dregor was saying...she wouldn't fit in with the regular soldiers well at all. But with the Dunedain, perhaps she could find her place, a community that would look past her gender as long as she was competent. And she would be, she vowed. She would expect no less of herself. She would prove to them that women could and should take up weapons. A slow smile spread across her face as she raised her head again. "Yes," she said, suppressing an urge to laugh for joy. "Yes, I do."

Aragorn smiled as well. "Then I shall allow Lord Dregor to make the arrangements for you, Lady Adrienne. I will inform all of you when you shall begin your lessons."

That was clearly a dismissal. The five girls bowed and left, silently making their way through the crowd of observers, all of whom stared at them with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. When they had finally left the throne room, they halted and looked at each other.

"Well," Erin said after a moment. "That's over with."

"Yeah," Kavila said softly, almost amazedly. "Thank God it's done."

Sarah's stomach growled suddenly. Now that the tension was gone, the girls' sparse lunch was taking its toll.

"Let's get some food in somebody's room. We can just sit around and talk, enjoy the afternoon," Megan suggested.

"We could take it outside," Erin added. "It's such a beautiful day." The five friends made their way to the kitchens and then outside to the gardens, where they talked for long hours and enjoyed each others' company.

Erin looked up from her discussion with her friends when a shadow fell over the group. There stood Eomer, dressed no less handsomely than he had been the previous evening, though his garments were certainly less formal. He wore black leggings and a dark brown shirt with the image of a horse imprinted in gold. Behind him swirled a green cloak; he wore no sword or helm.

The girls rose hurriedly and bowed, chorusing, "Greetings, my lord Eomer."

Eomer laughed. "Please, sit. I come only to ask a question of Lady Erin." He turned to her. "Aragorn has entrusted your instruction in horseback-riding to me. If you wish, I would give you your first lesson."

Erin just gaped at him for several seconds. "You…you're going to teach me? I'm getting horseback-riding lessons from the King of Rohan!"

"Yes, last I looked, I was indeed the King of Rohan," Eomer chuckled. "Much though I may have wished to forget it sometimes."

Erin took a few deep breaths. "Well…how could I decline such an offer?" she said finally. "But I'm afraid I have no horse or tack; I'm quite a beginner."

"You rode to war and cared for a horse for a week; I should think you know more than a beginner," Eomer said.

"I had a lot of help from Adrienne there, and besides, I didn't take care of Greda—the stableboys did that."

"Oh for heavens' sake, Erin, stop arguing and go!" Adrienne spoke up beside her. "It's already mid-afternoon. I don't want to see you before dinnertime!"

Erin flushed with embarrassment. "All right, I'm going!" Eomer walked beside her and, this time, he did not offer his arm. Of course, she wasn't exactly behaving like a lady right now, on her way to horseback-riding lessons where she certainly hoped she wasn't learning to ride sidesaddle. But Erin definitely felt a change in his attitude toward her, from equal and friend to student.

Even Eomer's voice was somewhat different when he spoke, a note of command in his voice that she had not heard there before. "I have selected a horse for you, as well as tack. We will begin today with a lesson in the health and care of your horse. If we have time, we may do some riding as well."

Erin was somewhat disappointed that she wasn't going to be riding right away, but she knew that she should have expected it. But something else Eomer had said intrigued her. "My horse?" she asked him.

Eomer glanced down at her. "Yes. Aragorn asked me to choose one for you and tell you to consider it a 'belated birthing-day present.'"

Erin laughed for several moments. "Oh, that's funny! Belated—it's two months late!" She calmed herself, although she felt her lips might be forever frozen in a beaming grin. "Thank you, my lord, for choosing me a horse."

Eomer smiled. "'Twas not difficult. Think naught of it."

By that time, they had reached the stables where steeds of nobles and residents of the Citadel were kept. Eomer led Erin to a stall about halfway down the hay-strewn corridor, and Erin beamed as she caught sight of the beautiful animal within.

The mare looked at her new owner with sorrowful hazel eyes, thrusting her nose over the door of the stall in the hope of a treat. Eomer surreptitiously slipped something into Erin's hand; she saw it was a carrot when she reached up to offer it to the hungry mare. But what was striking about this horse was not its eyes, but the shining chocolate coat. Its beauty was further enhanced by the sandy mane and tail that flowed over its coat. It whuffled at her as she reached up to stroke its nose, as if sharing her joy.

"Oh Eomer…she's beautiful…" Erin breathed as the mare eagerly took the proffered carrot.

"Ah, but wait until you sit upon her back," Eomer's eyes were twinkling. "Tinna can be somewhat lively, but she is quite good-tempered altogether. I think she will serve you well."

Erin just beamed and hugged him, unable to articulate her gratitude. When she drew back from a somewhat surprised Eomer, he opened the stall door and offered Erin a bridle, demonstrating how to put it on the mare. Then he gave the lead rope to Erin, and they brought the horse into the paddock.

Eomer then proceeded to give Erin the most thorough lesson she could have imagined in equine anatomy and health, as well as the maintenance of equestrian equipment. Two hours later Erin could name every important part of a horse, care for Tinna's tack, and saddle her in under two minutes. Eomer was a strict taskmaster, giving praise only where it was truly deserved. Nonetheless Erin flourished beneath the demanding instruction, loving every moment of the lesson.

When he had finished, Eomer glanced at the sun, which was much lower in the sky than Erin would have guessed. "I believe we have time for a short ride," he said, smiling as Erin nearly squealed in joy. "Saddle Tinna again, and then we shall work on your riding posture."

An hour later they sat upon the banks of the Anduin east of the city and watched their horses splashing in the water and generally behaving like colts instead of the mature animals they were. Erin reveled in the feeling of joy and general contentment that filled her soul as she sat there next to Eomer, letting the warmth of the afternoon sun coax her toward a dozing rest.

"You remind me greatly of my sister," Eomer said suddenly. "You have a spirit which, like hers, yearns for freedom and independence."

Erin pondered his comment for several moments, somewhat taken aback. "She always was my favorite female character in the books," Erin said finally. "I always loved the idea that she dressed up like a soldier and went to battle. I wanted to do that as well, but in my world…it wasn't possible."

"Women are not allowed to join the army in your world?" Eomer asked.

"Well yes, they are, but…warfare is very different. We don't ride horses or use swords and bows. Our weapons are…ugly, dirty, and...frightening in their ability to cause destruction. We always see pictures of buildings caught in the middle of a battle, and they are…demolished. Holes in the walls, windows blown out, sometimes utterly reduced to rubble. We have weapons that can level an entire city—one weapon. It's not the same."

Eomer was silent for many moments. "War in this land also causes destruction. There are many women without husbands, or sons, or brothers…without a house to return to." He paused, and Erin turned to see an expression of utter pain on his face. She understood immediately; he had sent many of those husbands and sons and brothers into battle.

She moved closer to him, reaching up and enfolding him in an embrace. "You are their king, their commander. It was necessary."

"It does not make the burden any easier to bear," Eomer replied softly. He did not move from the embrace.

"Nevertheless you can help your people—you must, for you are their King," Erin said, releasing Eomer from the hug. "It is your duty to pull them through these times of rebuilding."

Eomer sighed heavily. "Aye, and that is why I must leave. In six days I shall depart for Edoras, and there I must work to set my lands in order."

Erin tried to smile, even though the mere thought of Eomer leaving made her want to cry. "How long will you be gone?"

"I do not know…it may be months," Eomer replied.

"Months?" Erin swallowed hard. "That's…that's a long time to go without lessons when we've just started."

Eomer smiled. "I shall arrange for another to teach you until I return."

A sudden idea occurred to Erin, and her face lit up with excitement. "But what if…could I come with you?" she exclaimed.

"Come with me? To Rohan?" Eomer asked, surprised.

"Yes! I mean, I'd love to see Edoras, and Meduseld, and help you with all the rebuilding, and that way we could keep the lessons going! You'll want some breaks from your work, I'm sure." Erin replied, winking.

"I'm sure," Eomer chuckled. "If there is no pressing reason for you to remain here, I see no reason why you could not accompany me."

Erin was beaming again, her good humor restored. She was going to see the golden house of Meduseld! "Let's get back—I want to tell my friends!"

Eomer laughed. "Very well. But first, one more lesson: whistling."

"Oh! I can do that," Erin said, forming her lips into an "o" and whistling a short tune.

Eomer shook his head. "No, that is not what I meant. I meant _this_ whistling." He placed two fingers in his mouth and blew, producing a piercing whistle. "Can you do that?"

Erin's enthusiasm didn't wilt a bit. "Not yet. I guess you'll just have to teach me!"

MEGAN and her friends were enjoying a comfortable silence as they basked in the warm late-afternoon sun amid the beautiful, verdant palace gardens when their reverie was interrupted by the soft sound of footsteps. Megan saw the intruder first, and could not suppress a chuckle as she realized who it was. _I have a feeling Kavila's afternoon just went downhill_.

"Greetings all!" Legolas exclaimed as he seated himself next to Kavila. "Hello!" Sarah and Adrienne chorused, while Kavila managed a soft "Hi."

"I have been sent to inform you of the arrangements made by the King for your education," Legolas continued, oblivious to Kavila's less than friendly greeting. "Lady Kavila and Lady Megan, you shall meet with Lindir in the Houses of Healing for your lessons at 8 o'clock. Lady Sarah, you shall be needed at Kalva's shop when it begins business, an hour after dawn. Lady Adrienne, Dregor wishes you to meet him at the Gate at 8 o'clock. You shall all be occupied with lessons until lunch, at which time you may do as you please. Lady Sarah, the circumstances may be different for you—you will have to speak with Kalva. Lady Adrienne, I shall meet you at the armory an hour after noon for knife lessons." Adrienne beamed as Legolas paused for breath. "Where is Lady Erin?"

Adrienne snickered. "Eomer was here a couple of hours ago—he took her out for horseback riding lessons."

Legolas regarded Adrienne quizzically. "And that is amusing?"

By this time all the girls were laughing. "Let's just say they were both very—happy to have each other as teacher and student," Megan said.

Legolas's eyes widened slightly, before a smile crossed his face. "I see. I suppose Erin will not be disappointed to find that she will take lessons with Lord Eomer daily an hour after lunch?"

"I doubt it!" Adrienne laughed.

"Doubt what?" Erin called from the path. Everyone looked up hurriedly, surprised to see her.

"I thought I said I didn't want to see you until dinnertime!" Adrienne retorted.

"Yes, but I have something to tell all of you!" Erin plopped down onto the grass, beaming.

"Where's Eomer?" Sarah asked, grinning suggestively.

Erin missed the hint completely, her smile faltering a little. "He's got some preparations to make. He's only got six days before he leaves for Rohan."

"Rohan?" Adrienne exclaimed teasingly. "Oh, Erin, that's so far away. You must be _devastated_!"

Erin just grinned back at her. "Nope. I'm going with him!"

There were several moments of stunned silence. "You…you're going _with_ him? To _Rohan_?" Kavila said.

"Yep!" Erin said. "So he can continue my horseback riding lessons."

Legolas sighed. "I shall have to tell Aragorn. He will need to change the arrangements he made for your lessons."

"What arrangements?" Erin asked.

"At 8 o'clock you will meet Councilor Rammath in the library for lessons in lore and script. On Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday of each week you will meet with Vilad an hour after lunch for lessons in swordfighting, which will last until 4 o'clock. On Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday you will join Lord Eomer for horseback riding lessons, again lasting until 4 o'clock," Legolas recited. "Now, of course, we shall have to postpone your swordfighting and lore lessons until your return. I shall inform Aragorn before dinner."

"Inform me of what?" came a deep voice, its owner obscured by a grove of trees. Erin and Kavila jumped at the sudden intrusion.

"Stop _doing_ that!" Kavila exclaimed. "That's three people now who've snuck up on us!"

Aragorn came into view. "I apologize. I did not mean to startle you."

Kavila looked as though she had swallowed a frog. "I…I'm sorry, my lord…I didn't realize it was you…" she rose to curtsey, and Aragorn motioned for her to sit again.

"Please do not trouble yourselves. I have had far too much formality for one day," Aragorn said, chuckling.

"Guess what!" Erin piped up as soon as Aragorn had seated himself on the soft grass. "I'm going to Rohan with Eomer!"

"_Lord_ Eomer," Adrienne corrected her. "You've got to remember titles, Erin!"

Erin waved a hand at her dismissively. "I do when we're in a place where it's necessary, like last night. We're all friends here, though!"

"Indeed." Aragorn said, smiling. "I suppose this journey is what Legolas was planning to inform me about?"

"Yes," Erin looked somewhat contrite. "I'm sorry you're going to have to change all those arrangements. It would have worked out really well. But I'm going to see Edoras, and Meduseld, and it's going to be _so_ neat!"

Adrienne snickered. "Yeah, and I bet the fact that you'll be seeing a lot of Eomer had _nothing_ to do with it."

Erin blushed and looked at the ground. "Well, maybe a little…"

Aragorn laughed long. "Fear not. It shall be no trouble to rearrange your lessons upon your return. But I must leave you now, I am afraid—I have much work yet to do before dinner. Legolas, would you accompany me? There is something I would speak to you about."

"Of course." Legolas rose, his hand barely brushing the top of Kavila's head as he did so. She jumped, then glared at the ground and tried to ignore the snickers from her friends. Legolas disappeared with Aragorn behind the trees.

When they were a fair distance away, Aragorn spoke. "I have two things to speak with you about. A messenger came yesterday from Mirkwood—"

"What did he carry?" Legolas broke in, obviously very excited.

Aragorn smiled. "A package for you. I have not opened it."

Legolas sighed, smiling with relief. "I feared it would not arrive in time."

"The other matter is one of greater seriousness," Aragorn continued, and Legolas immediately sobered. "The envoy from Khand spoke with me today. The Variags wish to make peace with us, and they wish our aid in rebuilding their country and government. I want you to return to Khand with them and inform me of the condition of their land and people."

Legolas nodded. "Shall I negotiate the alliance?"

"Aye," Aragorn replied. "I shall provide you with the information you need. I trust your judgment in this; we must offer aid, but not pity."

"I understand," Legolas said as they reached Aragorn's study. "When shall I leave?"

"Not for awhile yet; there is an…event of some importance for which I would dearly wish your presence," Aragorn replied vaguely.

Legolas smiled knowingly. "Then I shall be there, _mellonamin_. Who shall accompany me on this journey?"

Aragorn opened the door. "I shall make the arrangements. But now, let me show you the reports from the treasurer…" Legolas followed Aragorn into the study, where they remained long into the night.

mellonamin my friend (Sindarin)


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

BREAKFAST the following morning was very different from the previous day. All the girls were excited about their lessons, chattering animatedly about their day. Once it was over, they went their separate ways, each dressed in leggings and tunic rather than dresses. It was more practical for all of them, no matter what subject their lessons concerned; nonetheless, Megan clearly felt the piercing glances cast her way as she made her way to the Houses of Healing. Kavila, walking beside her, was not oblivious to the scrutiny either. When they stepped into the Houses at last, Kavila muttered, "Finally," and shivered a little.

"Maybe we should have somebody make us some simple dresses instead of wearing pants," Megan said. "I don't like having that much attention on us."

"Maybe," Kavila replied doubtfully as they moved further into the building. A young woman hurried past carrying an armful of linens, and Megan stopped her quickly. "Do you know where the Healer Lindir is right now?"

She nodded hurriedly. "Down the hall, to the right," she answered. "He's tending a patient."

"Thanks," Megan said, and she and Kavila quickly made their way into the room the woman had indicated. Inside they found Lindir, bent over a young boy who was coughing harshly.

"Here, son, drink this," Lindir said, holding up a small cup of some foul substance. The boy drank it dutifully, his face contorting as his taste buds revolted. Megan's heart went out to the boy, so cooperative and yet obviously in a great deal of discomfort. She went and knelt by his bedside, ignoring Lindir's startled glance.

"I know that didn't taste very good," she said as she smoothed hair back from the boy's warm brow, "You're a very brave boy to drink that without complaining at all."

The boy smiled weakly. "You think so?" he rasped.

"Yes, I think so." Megan replied kindly. "What is your name?"

"Naton," he answered.

"And how old are you, Naton?" Megan asked.

"Eight years," he replied, straightening slightly with pride in the bed.

"Only eight years old? You're acting so grown up!" Megan said. "Where are your parents?"

Naton's expression wilted again. "They must keep working…they cannot spare the time to sit with me."

"What is their job?" Megan asked, once again struck by the boy's maturity.

"Father is the innkeeper at the Hog's Head Inn. Mother cooks. The guests cannot be without a cook or innkeeper, so they cannot sit with me," Naton replied sadly.

The inn name sounded vaguely familiar, but Megan couldn't for the life of her remember why. "Well," she said. "I have lessons to go to for awhile, but when they're done I'll come back and sit with you. Would you like that, Naton?"

"Yes," Naton said honestly. "You have lessons, too?"

"Yes, I do," Megan replied. "I have to learn about taking care of sick people like you. Lindir is my teacher," she nodded to Lindir. Naton smiled at both of them. "I'll see you in awhile, Naton." Megan stood up to leave.

Naton grabbed her hand suddenly, and she looked back at him quizzically. "Thank you," he said. "You never told me your name."

"Megan," she said, and Naton smiled. "Megan," he repeated. "I will look forward to seeing you again."

Megan smiled. "So will I. Farewell, Naton."

WHEN they had left the room, Lindir smiled at Megan. "That was kind of you, Megan, to offer to sit with Naton." He sighed wearily. "It grieves me that I cannot tend to my patients as well as I would wish. I cannot spare the time to sit with young Naton, much though I wish I could. There are too many here, too much work to be done." He smiled suddenly. "But two new trainees—you will be of great help here. Megan, you know much of herbs, correct?" She nodded. "I will continue to instruct you in the uses of herbs, then. Kavila, you will be learning from my fellow healer, Yanis. He will teach you some about herbs, but also much about the binding and treating of wounds and the setting of bones. And—ah, Yanis! Here are our newest trainees!" Lindir called to a man shuffling slowly down the hall ahead of them. At the sound of his voice the man turned, revealing an aged and somewhat stern face. Yanis was different from Lindir, older perhaps; his movements were slower and stiffer than Lindir's. His voice was deep and gravelly when he spoke.

"Indeed. I have heard much of you from Lindir. You must be Megan, and you Kavila. A pleasure to meet you both, if what I have heard is true," Yanis said.

Kavila and Megan laughed nervously. "Well, I'm sure Lindir exaggerated when he spoke of us…" Kavila muttered shyly. Yanis was probably a perfectly nice old man, but something about his manner and appearance made her nervous. He just wasn't quite as _grandfatherly_ as Lindir, somehow.

"Kavila, Yanis will be giving you your lesson this morning," Lindir said. "Megan, you will come with me. Sometimes we will switch, and sometimes you will both have a lesson with either Yanis or I. But for today, this is the arrangement."

"Very well. Kavila, please follow me." Yanis said, walking in the opposite direction. He entered an unoccupied room at the end of the hall and seated himself with a weary sigh. "These old joints just don't work like they used to."

Kavila smiled tremulously as she took a seat on the other side of the room. "Come closer," Yanis said. "I merely wish to ask you some questions. I need to decide how much you have yet to learn."

He then proceeded to quiz Kavila on every aspect of wound and bone treatment she could possibly have imagined. He asked her questions about identifying bones, different types of breaks, setting the bones, cleaning and binding wounds, and splinting injured limbs, among other topics. By the time he was finished, Kavila wanted nothing more than to escape from beneath his hawkish scrutiny. She squirmed in her chair and tried to act the proper, quiet girl, hoping he could just tell her she was a failure now and let her get out of here.

For several minutes he sat silently, considering. Finally he nodded. "You know a great deal more than most apprentices. You have done well." He paused for a moment. "I must check some patients now; it is an hour before lunch. You may join me if you wish."

Kavila hesitated. She was terrified of the man, but she was stuck with him as a teacher if she ever wanted to become a healer. She might as well make a good impression on him. Besides, if he was friends with Lindir, he must have some good qualities.

"I'll come with you," she said as Yanis struggled to his feet. Kavila moved quickly to his side, supporting him as he rose. He smiled his thanks, and Kavila was surprised to see how much that smile softened his facial features.

As they made their way down the hall, Yanis explained the condition his first patient suffered from: a high fever, aching joints, and a racking cough. Kavila personally thought it sounded very similar to the flu, but she didn't mention it; she wasn't sure if she could explain how it was treated on Earth. The way Yanis described it, the sickness was treatable in Middle Earth as well. These treatments merely took longer to dispel the illness than the antibiotics of Earth.

When they reached the room, Yanis fell silent. He pushed open the door gently, calling out lightheartedly, "'Tis time for your medicine, Lans!" Yanis took several leaves from a table in a corner of the room and began mixing them into a powder, which he then mixed into a cup of hot tea. Kavila merely stood back and watched; she was out of her depth here.

The young man in the bed looked to be Kalva's age, perhaps in his twenties. Kavila was struck by how kindly Yanis treated the man; Yanis almost seemed a different person than the one who had quizzed her relentlessly only minutes before. His features were still angular, but his smile and twinkling eyes softened their harshness. His voice, though still somewhat rough, had taken on a kind and warm tone that surprised Kavila.

When Yanis had finished caring for the sick young man, he motioned to Kavila to precede him. They stepped into the hall, Kavila silently marveling at the change in Yanis. He walked beside her, smiling with the quiet contentment of one who has done a good deed. As he described to her the next patient's condition, Kavila decided that the stern manner he had first exhibited had been an act. And even if he was a strict teacher, Kavila had survived strict teachers before. It was obvious that Yanis loved his work, and that he was skilled at what he did. Yes, Kavila decided, she could certainly see why Lindir and he were good friends. Perhaps in time she too would build a friendship with Yanis. For now, she would be content to learn all that he could teach.

MEGAN followed Lindir into the herb storeroom, unable to refrain from staring at the shelves upon shelves of drawers filled with herbs and books on herbal medicine. She could spend many happy hours in here, she reflected. Lindir chuckled as he saw her standing in the doorway with wide eyes.

"I think we shall begin the lesson by preparing and drying some herbs," Lindir said. "Here, this is coneflower. The roots, here, must be removed and placed in this drawer—" he opened one drawer, marked with the words "coneflower root." "The rest of the plant, including the flowers, should be put in this drawer." He pulled out a drawer just above the first one which read "coneflower leaves."

As Megan began to separate the plants as Lindir had showed her, Lindir continued to lecture. "The roots of the coneflower plant, when crushed and taken in tea, can help to alleviate coughs and other ailments that affect breathing. The juices of the rest of the plant can also be used for the same purpose."

He continued to speak as he tended to his own work, describing the appearance and uses of various common herbs to Megan. At times he quizzed her on what he had taught her, until she could recite the information verbatim on cue. Almost before she realized it, Lindir was dismissing Megan to lunch. "You mean…we just spent four hours doing this?" she asked, somewhat amazed at how quickly the time had passed.

"Aye, we did. Now, go and collect some lunch. I must make my rounds, and then I too will take refreshment." Lindir said.

That reminded Megan—little Naton was still somewhere in the building, waiting for her to return. "Where is Naton, that little boy you were helping when we came in?"

Lindir smiled. "I will take you there. You may take some lunch from the kitchens, which are below us, and then return there yourself."

Megan followed Lindir to Naton's room, but before going in she made her way to the kitchens Lindir had mentioned and retrieved a small lunch for herself. She didn't need much, but she did make certain to ask for a sweet cake to take to Naton.

When she entered the room, dessert in hand, Naton was dozing. He looked so tiny and vulnerable in the adult-sized bed, his cheeks flushed with fever, Megan was tempted to let him sleep. But then his eyes fluttered open, lighting up when he saw the sweet cake.

"I brought you some dessert, for being so patient waiting for me," Megan told him as he devoured the cake. She started on her own lunch more slowly, discussing small talk with Naton. As she watched Naton's animated expressions, she marveled at the innocent maturity of the young. Naton spoke little of the war he had just lived through, and much of his parents, whom he obviously adored. And yet he did not fault them for returning to work, leaving him alone in the Healing Houses; he merely accepted it.

Finally, during mid-afternoon, Naton's mother visited him. She was so loving and affectionate toward Naton, it was not difficult to understand why he spoke so fondly of her. He told her confidently that he would be better tomorrow and could come home and help her with the chores, and Megan saw moisture in her eyes. Such a selfless, loving child, Megan thought as she moved to the back of the room, allowing the mother and child a few minutes together. The mother's regret that she could not sit with her sick child was nearly tangible as she left, half an hour later, to return to her work.

Naton seemed to wilt a little after his mother left, and Megan guessed that some of his optimism had been an attempt to alleviate his mother's regret. She moved back to his bedside, smoothing some hair from his brow soothingly. "I think it's time for you to sleep, Naton," she said. "I'll come back tomorrow, if you're still here." Naton nodded wearily and dropped off to sleep, his features younger and more relaxed in slumber. Megan was surprised by the fierce feeling of protectiveness that surged within her as she closed the door softly behind her. Yes, she would indeed be back tomorrow.

ERIN made her way to the library with no small excitement. Aragorn had insisted she begin her lessons, since she still had five days until Eomer left for Rohan. She hadn't objected very much. She was extremely curious to see the library of Gondor, which was famed throughout Middle Earth for its massive collections of lore. She briefly reflected that Gandalf might be the best tutor for her, considering her love of old languages and alphabets, of which the wizard probably knew more than her Gondorian tutor did.

Then she reached the library, and the servant who had led her there bowed and left. Erin squared her shoulders and tried to push down her nervousness. She was on time, dressed appropriately in a long dress, and had at least a basic understanding of Middle Earth history to work with. If that didn't pull her through this lesson, her passion for all things history and linguistic would. She would not disappoint her tutor.

Erin stepped through the door, barely remembering to close it softly behind her. For several moments she merely stood in the doorway, her gaze traveling up and over the massive shelves. They reached perhaps fifteen feet, from floor to ceiling, with many ladders for quick access to the scrolls stacked neatly upon them. All four walls were covered with them, except for two small doorways in the left and right walls and the main door, as well as the wall space above the main door. Above the main entrance hung a giant map of Middle Earth, with large lettering so that one could read it from anywhere in the room. Erin spent several minutes just studying the map, refreshing her memory of Middle Earth geography.

The center of the room was filled with comfortable chairs and tables upon which one could pile scrolls and candles. There were brackets set upon the shelves periodically for candles, as well as lanterns hung from the ceiling, but they could not fully illuminate the room.

Finally Erin took a few steps into the room, her soft shoes rustling softly against the stone floor. Immediately a man stepped into the room through one of the small doors, smiling broadly. "You are the Lady Erin, are you not?" he asked.

Erin nodded slowly, then remembered her manners and curtseyed. "I am. And you, sir?"

"I am Councilor Rammath. The King has informed me that you are interested in becoming a loremaster," the man replied.

"I am, my lord councilor," Erin began, but Rammath interrupted her.

"Please, call me Rammath," he smiled, and Erin found herself returning the grin. "Now, if you will follow me, I will introduce you to the various areas of the library." He made it sound as though he were introducing Erin to a longtime friend. "This room here contains volumes on history. This wall," he pointed to the wall containing the giant map, "is dedicated to geography and cultural studies. This one," he pointed to the right wall, "contains scrolls on the ancient history of Men, before Numenor. The back wall holds books on the history of Men after Numenor,"—Erin noticed that was the largest wall--"and the left wall is dedicated to Numenor's history. Within each wall certain shelves are dedicated to certain periods of history, such as a specific person's life or king's reign."

Erin grinned as he maneuvered through the chairs to the doorway in the right wall, through which he had come. Her hands were itching for one of those ladders, so she could retrieve a nice stack of scrolls and books and curl up in one of those comfy-looking chairs for the rest of the morning. But that, she figured, was not to be her luck.

The room into which Rammath led her was much smaller than the first, its ceiling reaching only a few feet above her head. Its walls too were covered with shelves, although here were tables and wooden chairs. Rammath was nearly beaming when he turned to face her. "In this room are kept all the scrolls and books dealing with the various languages of Middle Earth. Once again, they are labeled by shelves. We have tomes on Sindarin, Quenya, Dwarvish, Adunaic, and many other languages."

Erin's grin widened. "Oh, I think I know where I'll be spending _my_ free time," she said softly as she looked about her.

"'Tis my favorite section of the library," Rammath told her. "I believe that we shall become very good friends, my lady Erin."

"Just Erin," she said, and he chuckled.

"Very well, just Erin. This is where we shall be meeting for lessons. But first, if you would follow me…" Rammath exited the same small door they had entered and recrossed the History Room. The next room they entered was literally identical to the Language Room in size and furnishings, except that it had a second small door leading to one last room. "Here are kept all books on mathematics and science," Rammath said. He pointed through the doorway into the last room. "That room is dedicated to poetry and other such pursuits of literature, mostly in the Common Tongue, though we have some texts in Elvish and Dwarvish." He smiled at her. "Now, let us return to the Language Room for your first lesson!" Erin followed him eagerly, already looking forward to hours spent here. She had a feeling this would quickly become her favorite place as well.

SARAH arrived at the door of Kalva's shop half an hour after dawn, dressed in plain leggings and tunic, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail that would stay out of her face. She glanced at the door to the armory, only a few feet away, and smiled at the memories it brought back: meeting Kalva, learning swordwork with her friends, testing the giant crossbows on the practice ground.

With a deep breath to dispel her nervousness, Sarah opened the door to Kalva's shop and stepped inside. She had no idea what to expect here; she knew a little about shooting bows (Erin had taken her shooting twice) and could make arrows with Kalva's special device, but other than that she hadn't the faintest idea what was involved in the construction of archery equipment.

Sarah's eyes adjusted gradually to the darker interior of the shop, lit only by windows that allowed fresh air and sunlight in. She immediately saw that there were two rooms: the first room, in which she stood, held the finished products on display. Sarah spent several moments marveling at the beautiful woodwork of the bows, before Kalva's voice rang out from the second room. "I shall be with you in a moment's time…"

"Don't worry about it," she called back. "It's just me."

"Sarah?" Kalva's voice sounded surprised. "The King sent a messenger yesterday to inform me that you would become my apprentice, but I did not expect you so early this morning. Come in!"

Sarah stepped into the second room and halted in astonishment. It was the exact opposite of the first room, which had been relatively clean and organized. This room was the workroom, and it was anything but clean and organized; sawdust and wood shavings littered the floor, and there were tools and pieces of wood everywhere. It was much larger than the front room, and filled with the sweet scent of cut wood.

Kalva was perched upon a stool beneath one of the many large windows, again the only light in the room. His left arm was still in a sling, but his hand was free; he used it to hold pieces of wood steady as he carved them into the proper shape for bow construction. Sarah quickly noticed, however, that the carving stage was as far as he could get with one arm virtually incapacitated, judging by the abundance of carved staves and the lack of bows in other stages of construction.

"This is the workroom, where you shall be spending most of your time as my apprentice," Kalva said. "I am afraid that, because of my arm, I can only shape wood. I cannot assemble the bows or make the arrows, much less quivers and other such gear. Arrows are needed the most, I think; the City has depleted its supply in this war, and there is quite a shortage. There in the corner," he motioned, "is a stack of arrow staves. Once you have finished cutting those into proper arrow shafts and fitted them with points, I shall teach you to fletch them. Later today, if you wish to keep working, I may teach you some about constructing a bow."

Sarah quickly went to work, and in a couple of hours she had finished with the shafts. Then she worked until lunch under Kalva's strict supervision fletching the shafts with the colors of the city. She soon lost herself in the rhythm of the work: place the feather, secure it with cord, and add tar to keep it firmly in place. Repeat three times, and the arrow goes in the finished pile. The wood was smooth in her fingers, the feathers soft, and the sun warm against her back. She loved the feeling of accomplishment when she finished another arrow, and the pride she felt when she saw the growing stack of finished arrows. She fell into an almost trance-like concentration, and jumped when Kalva laid a hand on her shoulder. "'Tis time for the noon meal," he said. "You've only three more to finish, and then we shall leave." She soon added the last three to her stack, and she left with a feeling of quiet accomplishment she retained for the rest of the day.

ADRIENNE strode down to the Gate to meet Dregor, nearly skipping in her excitement. Her first lesson as a Ranger-in-training! A part of her still could not believe that her dream had come true. She would learn swordfighting, archery, tracking, horseback-riding, wilderness survival, everything she had ever wanted to know…from the best of the best!

She tried hurriedly to remember all the things she and Dregor had discussed during their time in Ithilien. Though he had not given her a formal lesson in tracking, they had spoken often of it for long hours. And then there were all the swordfighting lessons he had given her…she hoped her muscles remembered all the little adjustments she had been practicing, because she wasn't certain she could keep them straight!

When she reached the main Gate, she paused momentarily outside it. _Come on, Adrienne, you won't disappoint him_, she told herself and stepped through, nodding at the guards as she passed. Dregor was waiting for her as promised, holding the lead ropes of…two horses! Both stallions, as well…one Adrienne recognized as Dregor's bay, Amdir, but the other one she didn't know. She felt a surge of excitement. Was it…

"Good morn, Adrienne," Dregor smiled at her as she approached. "You have already seen my horse, but I do not believe you have met Mithela."

"Mithela?" Adrienne repeated, trying to get her tongue around the strange word. She walked up to the horse slowly, as the stallion snorted and moved nervously backwards. Dregor soothed him with a word, and the horse remained in place as Adrienne neared. She reached up and cautiously stroked the proud, arched neck. The stallion was a truly stunning example of his kind, with a coat and mane that were so dark they were almost blue. His coat glimmered in the morning sun as he moved, his muscles flowing like water beneath the black hide. There was a small mark on his forehead, a gray arrowhead-shaped patch of hair. "Is he for me?"

"Aye, he is," Dregor smiled. "And do not worry about repayment; the King has assured the Dunedain that his treasury is open to us. After all, it is difficult to pay someone monthly or even yearly when you cannot find him. When we must replenish supplies or replace gear, it is the Crown which now provides the coin."

Adrienne chuckled as the horse nudged her inquisitively, having come to the conclusion that she did not present a danger. "So…does 'Mithela' mean anything?"

"Grey-arrow—he is named for the mark upon his forehead," Dregor replied. "But why do we not see if his stride fits his name?" He leaped upon his own horse, who was nearly prancing with eagerness.

Adrienne grinned. "Why not indeed!" She climbed into the saddle quickly, settling herself into a good posture. All those riding lessons hadn't been for nothing! Mithela snorted again and moved uncertainly under her, but she soothed him with soft words and he quickly calmed.

Dregor nodded approvingly and kneed his steed into a quick canter. Adrienne barely had to touch Mithela's sides; the stallion applied himself eagerly to the chase. When Dregor looked back to see if she had followed, his expression reflected his surprise that she had caught up to him as quickly as she had.

With a mischievous smile Adrienne coaxed Mithela into a run, breaking out in laughter as she passed an astonished Dregor. Dregor shook his head and followed, chuckling wryly.

He soon caught up with her. "I suppose there is little for me to teach you about riding!" he laughed.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find something. I can ride, yes, and I can do most of the care-taking, but as for jumping and fighting from the back of a horse—there I'll need some help." Adrienne replied.

Suddenly Dregor reined in Amdir, and Adrienne looked up to find that they had reached the outer walls of the city. The guards were staring at the two of them with no little astonishment. Dregor just smiled and nodded as he approached them. "I am the Ranger Dregor, second-in-command to our King and Chieftain, Lord Aragorn. This is my student."

"Student in what subjects?" one of the guards joked, and Adrienne blushed as she realized his insinuation.

Dregor chuckled. "You may laugh now, but you will not when she can surpass you in tracking and horsemanship!"

The guard continued laughing as he opened the gate. "Perhaps. Farewell!"

Dregor shook his head when they had passed out of earshot. "My apologies, Adrienne. That is the way soldiers talk—part of the reason I requested Lord Aragorn's permission to let you join the Rangers. There is less of that among us."

Adrienne didn't let it bother her. "I've heard worse," she said as she urged Mithela back into a run. It didn't take much urging; Mithela was as eager for this outing as Adrienne was. As Mithela picked up his pace Adrienne threw her head back and reveled in the feeling of the wind in her hair, the pounding of the stallion's hooves against the earth. Now she remembered why she had loved riding so much!

Dregor's voice broke her from her memories. "Look ahead and to the west a little—do you see the stand of trees there? That is where we shall halt."

Adrienne nodded, and then an impish grin split her face. "Race you!"

Dregor looked after her in no little wonder as she spurred Mithela to still greater speeds, shaking his head as he urged his own mount faster.

Adrienne didn't look back, concentrating on the ever-nearing trees. Only a few hundred more feet, and she and Mithela were still winning! She almost felt like a little child, racing a friend to the other side of the playground.

Suddenly she heard the sound of another set of hooves, pounding up to her right. She crouched low in the saddle and Mithela, taking this as his signal, drew up a last reserve of energy. Adrienne glanced back as they passed into the wood: Dregor had only been a few paces behind them, grinning just as widely as Adrienne. Adrienne reined Mithela in and slid from the horse's heaving back, as Dregor did the same.

"I do believe Mithela has earned his name," he commented as he gave Amdir an affectionate pat. "But now, I think it is time to let our horses rest a little. Here," he led Amdir a little ways into the wood, "there is a small stream for them to drink from, and then we shall hobble them and begin our first lesson in tracking."

Adrienne could barely restrain her glee as she followed Dregor further into the forest and took care of Mithela. This day was just getting better and better! When they had finished, Dregor led Adrienne deeper in the wood to a picturesque little clearing. "This is where we shall have our initial lessons in tracking," he told her as she looked around in wonder. "I have set up a practice course, which I will change often to present different challenges."

"An obstacle course!" Adrienne exclaimed in delight.

"Aye," Dregor chuckled. "Shall we begin?"

FIVE days later, Erin looked down upon her friends from Tinna's back. "Don't worry, you guys," she reassured them. "I'm with Eomer. I'll be fine."

"I'm not worried about that," Adrienne replied, smirking. "I'm worried you're going to come back engaged."

Erin's gaze dropped to her horse's neck as her face flushed. "I…I don't know." she muttered.

"Erin?" Megan's tone was half-teasing, half-questioning. "What do you mean, 'I don't know'?"

"Are you saying that if he asked, you would say yes!" Kavila interjected, her mouth hanging open in astonishment.

"I don't know…" Erin repeated lamely, throwing a frustrated and somewhat pleading look at her friends. "Can't we just get this over with?"

Sarah took pity on her. "We'll see you in…I don't know, a few weeks?"

Erin sighed. "Eomer said it might be months."

"Months!" Kavila exclaimed. "Warford, that's such a long time!"

"It'll go by fast," Erin replied with a sad smile. "I'll be back before you know it."

"You have to send letters," Adrienne warned. "We'll be wondering about you all the time, thinking 'I wish Erin were here.'"

"I know," Erin said. "I'll be thinking of you guys, too."

"When you aren't thinking about Eomer," Megan snickered. "Which I'm sure will be _never_."

"Will _not_," Erin muttered, blushing again. Suddenly a shadow fell over her as Eomer appeared beside her.

"I apologize for interrupting, Lady Erin," he began. "But I thought I should warn you that we are nearly ready to depart."

Erin couldn't help smiling; it was something she did instinctively in his presence. "In other words, all you're waiting for is me," she chuckled. "Just a few more moments and I'll come."

She turned back to her friends, the grin fading from her face. "I'm not going to say goodbye, since it'll only be a couple of months and we'll be keeping in touch through letters," she said.

"Only a couple of months!" Kavila retorted. "Warford, how will I ever survive without you there to tell me I'm being stupid?"

"You do that more than enough on your own," Erin responded, laughing. She glanced over shoulder and quickly sobered. Eomer and his men were all in position, and Eomer kept glancing back towards her pointedly. She sighed, "Well, I'd better be going. I don't want to keep Eomer and his men waiting."

Her friends nodded, forcing smiles for her sake. She looked at all of them one last time, wondering for the millionth time how she was going to manage without friends or family for two whole months. They had been her support for so long, she wasn't sure what to do without them.

But as she turned away and beheld Eomer, his golden locks flowing from under a shining silver helm, she felt that ubiquitous smile returning again. No, she would manage. As long as Eomer was near, she would be fine.

She rode up next to him, ignoring the surprised and, in some cases, outright unfriendly looks directed at her as she passed through the ranks. When she reached him Eomer beamed at her and rose up in his saddle. "Forth Eorlingas!" he shouted, raising his hand and bringing it down in the gesture to move out. The thunder of hooves built behind them as the Rohirrim followed their King across the Pelennor Fields, and a new kind of exhilaration built within Erin. She had never ridden at the head of an army, and she had to admit the sensation of all that might behind her, following _her_, was thrilling. She glanced over at Eomer, who was still grinning, and returned the smile.

_Yes_, she thought to herself, _I think I'll be just fine_.

KAVILA walked slowly back to her room in the Citadel, trudging through the streets of Minas Tirith. The noonday sun made the streets and buildings shine, but Kavila wasn't paying any attention to her surroundings, other than to make certain she didn't walk in front of a cart or bump into some innocent child. She was somewhat late returning to the palace; a wagonload of supplies had arrived at the Healing Houses, and Yanis had asked Kavila to help him unload it. It had taken longer than Kavila had thought it would and had sapped her of strength—those boxes of bandages and dried herbs could be heavy!

Hard work wasn't a foreign concept to Kavila, nor was it the only reason she was tired. She hadn't slept well for the past three days, ever since Erin had left. For some reason Kavila hadn't been able to stop worrying about her friend; it might have been just a feeling, but something wasn't right.

Today was the day Erin was due to arrive at Edoras. Kavila was certain they would be getting a letter in another few days, talking all about how beautiful Edoras and Rohan were, and how much she missed them, and how much she was enjoying spending all day around Eomer. Kavila sighed. Sometimes Erin was _so_ predictable.

The truth was, Kavila was missing her friend more than she had thought she would. Certainly Erin often made herself a nuisance, with her teasing and pestering, not to mention her nearly constant talking about Eomer the past few weeks. But nonetheless she had been the one out of all four friends whom Kavila had felt closest to, and Kavila was finding she very much needed to talk to someone.

Legolas had been acting strangely lately; he was avoiding her. Not that Kavila was objecting—she had quite welcomed the relief of not having to agonize about what he would do next. But the complete reversal of attitude confused and worried her. She had a feeling he was doing it for a reason. Maybe he was planning something. _That_ thought worried her. After all, he was a prince; he would have a lot of resources at his disposal, not to mention that just about everybody in the palace was on his side. From the way they looked at him as he passed by, even the palace servants were on his side. Kavila wasn't even sure her own friends were on _her_ side, the way they had been teasing her about Legolas.

Finally the door to her room appeared before her, just a few steps away. She could walk in, collapse on the bed, get a servant to bring her some lunch (although with her luck it would have some special dessert with a little note "From Legolas"), and then take a nap for the rest of the afternoon.

She opened the door and stepped inside with a deep sigh of relief which quickly turned to a feeling of alarm. Something was going on. The window was closed, but the curtains were moving as if a breeze were blowing through the room. And last she had checked, pillows did _not_ giggle.

Just as Kavila was contemplating her imminent fall into screaming insanity, several faces popped out of various places throughout her room. "Happy birthday!" they yelled, laughing uproariously at her expression, which was no doubt priceless. There was Adrienne behind the curtain, Sarah and Megan behind the chair, Pippin behind the pillows, the other three hobbits behind the bed, and Aragorn, Gandalf, and Gimli coming from the bathroom…which reminded Kavila. Where was Legolas?

As if she had read her thoughts, Adrienne spoke up. "Legolas is on his way…he had to go get something."

Somehow, that didn't make Kavila feel any better. A sudden knock on the door which sounded much louder than usual to Kavila made her jump away from the door as if whoever had knocked was about to attack her.

"Oh good, that's probably lunch!" Sarah exclaimed, rushing to open the door before Kavila could tell her not to. Sure enough, there was a caravan of servants bringing a celebratory lunch—and a cake. That cheered Kavila slightly; after all, who could be depressed about getting a cake? And the lunch looked delicious, especially to her hungry stomach, which was reminding her that it had been nearly six hours since she had eaten breakfast.

Adrienne cast one last glance at the door. "Oh well, Legolas can join us when he gets here," she muttered, uncovering the various platters. "Everybody dig in while the food's hot!"

Kavila ate heartily, trying in vain to distract herself from Legolas's worrisome absence. But neither the delicious food nor the idle chatter of her friends could quite dismiss the gnawing anxiety in the pit of her stomach.

Halfway through lunch, the golden-haired prince appeared in the doorway, grinning to see the others already eating. "What? You did not wait for me to return?" he asked with mock-resentment.

"You were taking too long," Adrienne told him. Her eyes lingered on the large package he was carrying, which he set on the desk next to another brown paper-wrapped parcel Kavila had failed to notice.

He ate little, Kavila noticed as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. She wondered why; he didn't seem ill, although his smiles were decidedly less enthusiastic than usual. After watching him surreptitiously for several minutes, Kavila decided there was only one way to define his behavior: he was nervous. About what, Kavila couldn't possibly imagine. If anyone should be nervous, it was her. She was the one getting all the surprises, and she _hated_ surprises—especially when they came from that _retarded_ Elf.

Finally the lunch deteriorated into chatting and snacking, the food mostly gone. Adrienne stood and, with obvious relish, put to Kavila the question that had been put to her a few weeks ago: "Cake or presents?"

"Um…I don't care…" Kavila muttered. Part of her said she should postpone the presents until the end, but another corner of her mind was arguing that she should get the agony over now and open them. She waved absently at Adrienne. "You decide."

Adrienne grinned. "Then presents it is!" Kavila wasn't sure if she should groan or sigh with relief. Well, she could sigh with relief when it was all over and she was finally alone in her room. Before or after she screamed her lungs out into the pillow, she wasn't sure.

Kavila was jerked from her musings when Adrienne dropped into her lap the suspicious paper-wrapped package she had seen earlier on the desk. She tore it open warily, especially after Adrienne's warning, "Be careful! It's sort of fragile!"

Inside, she found a small wooden box. "A…box. Thanks, you guys…" she started.

"_Open_ the box!" Sarah exclaimed, obviously eager to see Kavila's reaction.

Kavila sighed. "Fine!" She undid the small clasp and opened the box to find an exquisitely crafted set of gold hairpins, each in the shape of a tiny bird. When they were put in her hair, they would look like little golden birds flitting around her head. "Oh my god, you guys…these are so pretty!" she exclaimed, looking up to find all three of her friends beaming back at her. "How…?"

"Don't worry about how!" Adrienne laughed. "Just enjoy them. Oh, and they're from all four of us, although Erin contributed the most money before she left."

"Erin…oh my god, I love you guys!" Kavila said, rising and giving hugs to all three of them. "Now if only Erin was here, I could give her a hug too…"

The hobbits came forward next. "Our present is rather simple…" Pippin said, drawing from behind his back a pint-size tankard for holding ale. "However," Frodo finished, "I believe you will appreciate it!"

Kavila glared back at them. "You know what, you…you…you're meanies!" she finished. "I am _not_ going to use this, I hope you know!"

"Oh, we do not expect you to use it, Lady Kavila," Frodo chuckled. "We meant it rather as a…memento."

Kavila stuck out her tongue. "Memento…that's just the thing I want to remember!"

Everyone shared a hearty laugh. Legolas seemed as though he was about to come forward, but then he glanced at Aragorn. Aragorn caught his gaze, nodded slightly, and made his way up to Kavila around the plates and people scattered over the floor. "This is my present." He handed her a leather-wrapped book.

"You didn't have to get me a present," Kavila muttered shyly. The _King_ was giving her a birthday present!

"Take it in thanks for the work you have done in the Houses of Healing and upon the Fields of Cormallen. Your service as a healer has saved many lives, and for this I am grateful," Aragorn replied, while Kavila smiled nervously.

She opened the book warily, barely repressing a sigh of relief to see that it was only a book on healing. As she flipped through it she saw that it was divided into two parts: the first was a treatise on various methods of surgery and bone-setting, while the second part contained pictures and descriptions of herbs arranged first by the ailments they treated and then in alphabetical order. "As a fellow healer, I assure you that such a volume can be extremely useful," Aragorn said as her smile widened.

"Thank you, Aragorn," she said. "I'm sure this will be _very_ useful."

Megan glanced at the table. "One more present to go!" she exclaimed. Legolas stepped forward.

"I took the liberty of obtaining this for you, Lady Kavila. I hope you find it acceptable," he said as he brought it to her. Yes, he was most definitely nervous.

Kavila's guard immediately went up. He hoped she found it _acceptable_? What did that mean? She carefully unwrapped it, taking her time and postponing the moment when she would see what he had gotten her.

Finally the paper fell back to reveal a large swath of dark purple fabric, embroidered with silver-colored thread in simple but beautiful patterns. Kavila tossed the paper away and took the fabric into her hands. It was a lightweight, almost cotton fabric, but heavy in weight. Much heavier than it should have been, Kavila reflected. Then her hand brushed a patch of embroidery, and she was surprised to feel how cold it was.All of a sudden her mouth fell open and she stood hurriedly, unfolding the fabric. "Oh my god…" was all she was able to say for several moments. She couldn't believe he had found out about this! But yes, the fabric was the right length…

Kavila's gaze snapped up to meet Legolas's blue ones. "Is this what I think it is!"

Legolas seemed worried. "It is a sari, as it was described to me by Lady Erin. Is it not?"

Kavila took several moments to think this over. Saris were not something you gave lightly, especially when they were as expensive as this one. In fact, saris as elaborate as this one often meant 'Will you marry me?' And Erin—the traitor—had told Legolas about saris? Why? She knew what that meant! But had she told Legolas? Had she been plotting with Legolas? And for how long? "That stupid…I'm going to kill her when she gets back here...and this time I'm not kidding!" Kavila muttered.

"What's that on the floor?" Sarah asked suddenly, rising and grabbing a piece of fabric which had fallen. It was a short-sleeved shirt of the same color fabric, its sleeves similarly embroidered.

"What, pray tell, is a _sari_?" Gandalf asked, regarding Kavila with no little amusement. The girl was obviously astonished—and agitated.

"It's…it's a garment worn by Indian people like me...you put on the blouse and then wrap the fabric around in a special way…" Kavila trailed off, examining the embroidery. "But this isn't just any sari…it's an _expensive_ sari. This," she pointed to the silver patterns, "isn't just silver thread, it's real, _metal_ silver stretched into thread. And…and…" Kavila almost mentioned the fact that the giving of a sari like this was akin to a marriage proposal, but decided it was best if Legolas didn't hear that. "how did you get this?"

"I sent a request to my father, asking that he find a tailor who could craft the embroidery in the pattern I had designed," Legolas began, but Kavila interrupted him.

"You asked your _father_ about it? Like, your father, the _King of Mirkwood_!" she exclaimed. Then the last part of Legolas's statement registered with her. "You _designed_ this?"

"Yes, to both questions," Legolas answered. "My father located a tailor and had the cloth made to my specifications, and then sent it to me so that I might give it to you. I hope I have not done wrong?"

Kavila came very close to saying yes, but decided against it, since she really did not want to explain why. She didn't want to give him any ideas. "No…no, not really." She glanced hopefully at Adrienne. "No more presents, right?"

Adrienne laughed. "No, no more presents. Just cake!" Kavila sighed with relief.

"Which you're only going to get after you go put on that sari so we can all see how it looks on you!" Megan interjected.

"What? But I can't…I don't want to get cake on it!" Kavila finished desperately. She did not want to end up modeling for Legolas!

"Oh, of course you can! Come on, don't you think Legolas wants to see how good you look wearing his gift?" Adrienne said, shooing her toward the bathroom. "Go!"

Several minutes later Kavila emerged, the sari wrapped gracefully around her shapely form. The grape-colored fabric made her skin and eyes seem all the more dark and exotic, and everyone fell silent in admiration as she took a few steps into the room. Kavila glanced around and saw that all eyes were on her. "What…" she laughed nervously as the entire room erupted in clapping and whistles. "_Lirimaer_," Legolas said softly to Aragorn as he applauded and smiled at her. Aragorn chuckled his agreement.

"Okay, I don't look _that_ good," she protested as the applause continued. The comment merely sent her friends into new paroxysms of laughter.

"You're so modest, Kavila," Adrienne said finally. "Admit it, purple looks _damn_ good on you. Legolas, I commend you on your good taste."

Kavila spluttered for a few moments, and then an idea occurred to her. "Well, it's a very nice sari, but it's not the nicest I've ever gotten," she said, ignoring the pained look on Legolas's face. "I had this one that my mom got me, dark blue (not navy) with gold embroidery all over it…it was _heavy_."

"What did you get it for?" Sarah asked.

Kavila shrugged. "Oh, this little ceremony thing I had to do when I was younger. It was kind of like a ceremony for passing from childhood to adolescence, and it's sort of important in Hinduism…I'm not an expert on it."

Aragorn chuckled. "I am afraid I must leave you, Lady Kavila. I am glad I was fortunate enough to see you in your sari; 'tis a beautiful garment. But though the Crown has afforded me many advantages, unlimited leisure is not one of them. I have much work to do, and I shall have more tomorrow." He sighed and bowed. "Happy birthing-day, and I shall see you at dinner."

Gandalf and the hobbits took their leave soon after Aragorn, and Legolas and Gimli not long after that. Finally Kavila was left alone with her friends.

"Oh. My. God. He did _not_ do that! I can't _believe_ Erin told him about the sari! I'm going to _kill_ her when she gets back! And I'm not joking this time!" Kavila ranted the moment the door had closed. "Do you know what it means when a guy who isn't a relative gives you a sari?" The three girls shook their heads, amused. "It's basically a marriage proposal!" Kavila all but screamed.

For several moments there was silence. "A _marriage proposal_?" Adrienne said finally, her face blank with astonishment.

Megan snickered. "So, he's basically proposed to you and doesn't even know it?"

"Yeah, basically!" Kavila retorted. "And Erin should know that! Stupid, _retarded_ girl! I've _told_ her about that stuff!"

"Well if she knew, she obviously didn't let Legolas in on the secret, so I think you're safe for now," Sarah said. "You'll just have to wait until Erin gets back."

"Which is supposed to be a couple of months, so you'll have plenty of time to figure out what you're going to say to her," Adrienne added.

Kavila glared at the wall. "Oh _yes_…and I will have _quite_ a bit to say."

There was silence for several moments, as each girl retreated into their own thoughts. In the sudden quiet the adrenaline rush that had sustained Kavila since she entered her room left her, and she felt every bit of her earlier exhaustion. She yawned once, and Megan laughed. "Tired after all that excitement?" she asked teasingly.

Kavila shook her head. "No, just a lot of work to do at the Healing Houses. Yanis had me help him unload a cart of supplies." She rolled her shoulders. "I'm going to be sore tomorrow."

"Go soak in the bathtub," Adrienne advised. "Trust me, I've been through the whole sore muscle thing, with color guard and all. Oh, and don't forget to stretch them out some. Believe it or not, it makes you feel better."

"I believe you," Kavila said, already moving toward the bathroom. "I'll see you guys at dinner."

"See you!" her friends chorused as they filed out of the room. Kavila took Adrienne's advice and spent half an hour soaking in the bathtub, until she feared she would turn into a prune if she stayed in much longer. She got out, dressed, and collapsed on the bed; the warm water had soothed her and made the prospect of a nap look very enticing. Kavila's last thought before she finally fell asleep was of Erin. _I'm gonna kill her when she comes back_…


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"FOUR wagons bound for the Westfold, needing provisions!" the messenger called as he barreled through the door, panting in his haste. Eowyn glanced up from the other end of the warehouse as a servant girl took the piece of parchment detailing the supplies needed. The girl brought the paper to Eowyn, who scanned it twice quickly before slipping it into a pocket and giving her orders. "Rowena, put 300 blankets and 100 canvases in the first wagon! Erin, fill the second and third wagons with flour and sugar. I will aid you. In the last wagon, Lirwen, put 30 healing kits and as much salted pork as you can fit! Maran," she called to the messenger, "bring the wagons!" The women immediately gathered their teams of servants and sprang into motion, moving the required materials to the loading area.

Erin groaned as she stood from the sack of flour she had been resting against. She had thought the three-day ride to Edoras taxing, but she had been mistaken. At least she had not been expected to move much while riding, and her eyes had thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful lands they passed through. Erin was already in love with the land of Rohan; now she was beginning the long process of getting to know its people…especially its King.

Not that she had had as much time for that as she would have liked. Almost the instant the party arrived in Edoras, Eomer had disappeared into his council room among a gaggle of chattering advisors. For the past four days he had emerged only to sleep, preferring to take his meals as he worked rather than lose time. He had spent those days tirelessly plotting relief efforts, sending every man who could drive a wagon or hammer a nail to help rebuild the devastated outlying regions. In the absence of the men, the women had taken on the task of supplying these relief parties.

Eowyn had been the one to propose this to her brother, furiously defending the strength of women and pointing out that Eomer could not spare men to remain in Edoras to load wagons when so much labor lay ahead of them. Eomer had allowed it, albeit reluctantly. He knew his sister well enough to recognize when it was useless to resist her.

Initially Erin had approved wholeheartedly of this idea. She wanted to help in whatever ways she could, hoping to prove to the people of Rohan that she truly cared for their survival and felt their pain. Since her arrival she had been treated with cautious reserve, the people doing only what she needed, and volunteering no kindnesses. They were suspicious and fearful of her, she knew, because she was an unknown. But the welcome here had at least been somewhat better than that of Minas Tirith; in Gondor many people had regarded her with outright hostility.

Yet she was frustrated here in Edoras, confined within these walls, knowing that there was so much work to be done outside of them. She knew that what she did here was vital to the relief efforts, but she wanted desperately to go with one of those caravans.

There was also the fact that Erin was disastrously out of shape, even after all the war training she had received over the past few weeks. A few weeks of working out could not make up for nearly three years of relative inactivity, as her muscles were currently informing her. The constant work had left her no time to allow her muscles to heal, only increasing the pain as she continued to add to their strain. She feared to take the time to soak in a hot bath in the evenings; she was so exhausted by the end of the day that she was in serious danger of falling asleep in the bathtub.

Erin smiled to hear Eowyn mention the healing kits; those had been her idea, based on the concept of first aid kits. Erin had nearly glowed with pride when Eomer accepted her suggestion and ordered some of the maids to begin organizing them.

But now she had other matters to turn her attention to. "All right team," she called to the three maids who had been placed under her direction. "You heard Lady Eowyn. Each person carry 25 sacks each of flour and sugar out to the loading area. We'll get those loaded and then see how much space we've got."

The maids nodded and moved quickly to do as she had ordered. Erin sighed inwardly as she reached for another of the unwieldy bags. She lifted it, heaving it over one shoulder, and moved toward the loading area, where the first wagon was just pulling up. She dropped it heavily to the ground, massaging her shoulder as she stood, the muscles in her back protesting painfully. _One down, 49 to go. You can do it, Erin_, she told herself.

"Are you well, Lady Erin?" came a familiar voice from behind her. Erin turned with a wry grin.

"How many times must I ask you to call me Erin?" she asked as she faced Eowyn. The White Lady returned her smile somewhat sheepishly as she deposited her own sack.

"I apologize, Erin," Eowyn replied as she straightened. "But you shall not evade my question. You act as though you have injured yourself." Her gaze drifted pointedly to where Erin kneaded her shoulder muscles.

Erin forced a smile. "I am still somewhat unused to such strenuous work, but I shall be fine. Do not concern yourself for my sake, Eowyn."

Eowyn gave her a skeptical look. "Very well. I see that you too are loath to admit a weakness." She rolled her own shoulders slightly, and Erin's grin became genuine. If the White Lady herself was suffering sore muscles, Erin didn't feel quite so bad about her own.

Erin had come to like and respect Eowyn very much over the past few days. Eowyn was older than she, but not by much—the White Lady of Rohan was only 24 years old. This Erin had discovered yesterday during the lunch break, when Eowyn had finally spoken of herself. For the first couple of days of their acquaintance, Eowyn had asked questions of Erin. Yet Erin had received the impression that Eowyn was not merely curious about her and her world; Eowyn was judging her, scrutinizing her. From a few hints that Eowyn had dropped during her questioning, Erin suspected she had gotten wind of the deepening attraction between Erin and Eomer. Now that the interrogation was finished, Eowyn had seemed more relaxed and open; Erin took that as a good sign. Eowyn and Eomer were very close, and Erin was sure that Eowyn would let Eomer know if there was anything about Erin she didn't like.

Erin had received a much less friendly impression from the few advisors she had seen, as well as Eomer's commanding officers. She wasn't sure why, but they had seemed very hostile, almost regarding her as if she were the enemy. Perhaps they feared she was attempting to usurp the throne and somehow corrupt Rohan with the ideals and concepts of her world.

An hour later the wagons were filled to their highest capacity. Eowyn sent the messenger back to the Golden Hall to inform Eomer that the caravan was ready to depart. It wasn't quite lunchtime, but it was near enough, and thus Eowyn ordered everyone back to Meduseld for the noon meal.

Eomer and his advisors met them on the way to the dining hall. "I was just about to send for you!" he called, beaming as he strode up to them. He stepped between Erin and Eowyn and offered an arm to each. "Come, let us partake of the noon meal!"

The food was simple and somewhat less than usual, as Eomer informed them, but all were rationing their supplies in anticipation of the diminished harvest. Many fields and crops had been destroyed in the war, and Eomer was uncertain how many of the Rohirrim would be able to replant their fields and raise the usual harvest. Nevertheless Erin thoroughly enjoyed the fare, and finished the lunch pleasantly full.

When they were finished, Eomer turned to Eowyn. "Are you weary, sister?"

Eowyn smiled. "Somewhat, my lord. Yet I shall not cease my work, for there is more yet to be done. I daresay no man would be less weary than I after the labor I have done."

"You say there is more yet to be done, and in this you speak truly," Eomer replied. "Yet not here in Edoras; the wagons you supplied are the last party to ride out. I shall go with them, and I would have you ride at my side."

Eowyn bowed her head. "I am not too weary to serve my people," she said. "I will go."

Erin waited impatiently for Eomer to address the same question to her. When he remained silent, she spoke up. "And what of me, my lord? Am I not to go with you?" She was sure her resentment at his failure to address her was audible in her tone.

Eomer seemed slightly surprised when he turned to her. "I had not thought that you would wish to go."

"I am as Eowyn in this, my lord," Erin replied, somewhat angered that he didn't think she would want to help his people. "I too would lend aid to the people of Rohan. I know little of them, just as they know little of me; I would learn from them, as I am sure they would from me."

Eomer pondered this for a few moments. "I fear that they would look upon you with great scrutiny," he said finally.

"As they should," Erin countered. "They know me not. I will not break like glass beneath their stares. Rather I would give them a chance to learn that I empathize with them in their plight and want to aid them however I may."

Eomer smiled slightly. "You and Eowyn are much alike; I think that you shall become good friends." He paused a moment more in thought. "Very well. You may go."

Erin bowed her head, unable to refrain from beaming. "Thank you, my lord. If you will excuse me, I think I shall go change into a garment more clean than this dress." She rose and left the room, still smiling.

WHEN the dining hall was behind her, Erin could not help but let out a sigh of relief. Though she had conducted herself as well as she was able in speech and manners, she continued to feel as though somehow she did not quite measure up to the men's idea of a true lady. She supposed she probably never would; she hadn't been raised a lady and didn't have their conventions ingrained in her behavior like most of the ladies.

Eomer accepted her as she was, for the most part; however, there were times such as today when he seemed to forget that she was every bit as independent of spirit as his sister. Those were the times Erin became frustrated with him. Eowyn, however, had embraced Erin as a kindred soul once they had started to get to know each other.

And yet, Erin still felt the sharp pricks of hostile gazes upon her back nearly everywhere she went. For a moment she considered how unwise it might have been to force Eomer's hand in allowing her to accompany him. The scrutiny would indeed be worse in the country, and Erin caught herself wondering if she truly could withstand it without going crazy. _Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me_, she reminded herself. _Nor will looks_. Not to mention the fact that she had withstood plenty of unfriendly glances within Edoras. Eomer's advisors especially seemed to have taken an instant disliking to her, except for one: Elfhelm, Eomer's second-in-command, as well as leader of the _eored_ in which Eowyn had hidden. He alone of Eomer's advisors had endeavored to entertain Erin along the ride to Edoras when Eomer was occupied. In appearance he was the typical soldier: honest, plain of face and speech, and utterly devoted to his King. But Erin had discovered a witty sense of humor and quick smile beneath the simple exterior, and had found she liked him as well.

Erin reached her room and rummaged through her saddlebags, finding several suitable dresses. And yet…she didn't want to ride sidesaddle, and those dresses would be hard to ride normally in…

When Erin reentered the hall dressed in leggings and a tunic, a small knife strapped to her waist, she could feel the tension in the room rise noticeably. Eowyn raised an eyebrow and then winked knowingly at her; Eomer and his advisors merely stared. Most were doing a fairly credible imitation of a landed fish.

Erin decided to play the fool, though it was difficult for her to restrain a chuckle at the men's expressions. "My lord Eomer," she said as she took her seat again. "is there something wrong?"

Eomer stared for a moment longer before returning to his meal. "No…no, not at all…" He sounded anything but sure of his statement.

One of Eomer's more senior councilors spoke up. "My lord, 'tis a disgrace! A woman in men's garments—it cannot be allowed!"

Before Eomer could answer, Erin spoke up. "I apologize, my lord, if I have caused offense by dressing so. In my world, women often wear pants; it is simply more practical. I was merely attempting to prepare for the labor that I will be performing, much of which I thought would be more difficult to do in a dress. Also, I am afraid I have few dresses, being but newly arrived in Middle Earth. While I have been here for nearly two months, I have had access to a tailor for only a few days."

There was a pause of several seconds as the flabbergasted advisors absorbed her words. She suppressed a giggle; they were so shocked it seemed they couldn't even comprehend her little speech!

"Well, my lady," the councilor said, making the title of respect sound like a slur. "if you are so ignorant of our ways, it is our duty to inform you. Women do _not_ wear leggings. You will return to your rooms and change into appropriate clothing immediately."

As Erin struggled to suppress her irritation at being addressed in such an authoritative manner and devise a reply that would not insult the man, Elfhelm came to her rescue. "I believe, Councilor Ernfryd, that in one reason Lady Erin is correct. Her current garments are far more suited to the tasks she will perform at Eomer King's side. Also, I beg you to remember that she is under the protection and favor of the King Elessar, and we cannot and should not force our customs upon her."

As he seated himself, Erin bowed her head quickly in thanks; he winked at her and returned his attention to the discussion. The councilors were whispering among themselves, plainly agitated, but seemingly unsure what to do about it. Erin decided to "help" them a little.

She leaned over to Eomer, and in a tone carefully calculated to be audible across the table if all fell silent, said, "It's really quite barbaric of you, treating women as you do." Those nearest to her quieted, then shushed the people around them, until everyone was watching her "whispered" conversation with Eomer. "In my world, there was a time when women were regarded the same way: useless, suitable only to care for house and children. But about, oh, half a century ago, the men in society came around. You see, there was this huge war that lasted for several years. So many men left to fight, that the weapons factories and other vital operations were left without workers. The women stepped up and took the men's places, and lo and behold, we're still there!" This last she addressed to the whole group, most of whom suddenly acquired a tinge of shame that they had been caught eavesdropping.

Eowyn rose, failing utterly to hide her mirth at the councilors' reactions. She bowed shortly to Eomer. "If you'll excuse me, my lord, I believe I shall change as well. I will meet you in the stables."

Eomer sighed and waved her absently away. "Doubtless you'll be wearing the same _improper_ garments," he muttered mock-severely.

Eowyn's laugh drifted back from the doorway. "_Practical_, my lord, _practical _garments!"

Eomer gave another long-suffering sigh. "Come, my lady Erin, let us adjourn to prepare our horses."

Eomer was silent on the trek down to the stables. He had seemed so merry before lunch, Erin was not quite sure what to make of his brooding. "Penny for your thoughts," she said finally, teasingly, unable to endure the silence any further.

Eomer looked up suddenly from the floor, which he had been studying most intently. "Pardon?"

"Penny for your thoughts. What are you thinking about?" Erin clarified, and Eomer's lips twitched in a smile.

"Curious phrase." he muttered, pausing to gather himself. "I was thinking of Eowyn," he said eventually.

"Of Eowyn, my lord?" Erin pressed him.

"Aye. When she was younger, she was much like you; independent, headstrong. She tricked me into agreeing to teach her swordfighting, considered improper for a high-born lady. But then, much of what she did was considered improper for a high-born lady." He paused again. "Then she grew old enough to see the men around her, and to recognize her own qualities. For a while I did not know her, so taken with womanly ways had she become. Her dresses, her hair, her paints…" he trailed off, then continued after a moment. "Then came the War, and with it the old Eowyn whom I had taught the arts of horse and sword. I thought to lose her when all was over, but I did not know you then, my lady Erin. You have influenced her much. I daresay she shall never return to that "proper lady" I knew so briefly."

By this time, they had reached the stables. Erin thought she heard tones of wistfulness in his last statement, and resentment compelled her to speak before she went to her horse. "Perhaps, my lord, the reason she shall never again suffer to be the "proper lady" is because to do so would betray all she has learned of herself. Perhaps she has realized that to live such a life is to live a lie." _Perhaps_, Erin continued to herself, _she has found a man who can _appreciate_ that_. Then she turned, hoping that Eomer did not see the faint glimmer of tears in her own eyes, and made her way to the stall of her own horse. Eomer made no move to speak or follow her.

ERIN looked down on the town of Regold from the top of a nearby hill, a thrill of excitement shooting through her as she surveyed the bustling people working in the dewy morning. The day had dawned bright and clear; the very sun seemed to smile upon the village's work.

Erin was looking forward to helping the people of Rohan recover from the war. When the party from Edoras had first entered the town, Erin had been moved almost to tears by the undying gratitude and joy with which the people had welcomed them. They had swarmed over the supplies, expressions of thankfulness tumbling from their lips as they dragged away whatever they could carry. Erin had helped several families stock up, carrying sacks of flour and sugar for them and setting up their tents. Indeed, the village proper was a ghost town of charred wood and blackened ground on the plain behind her now; the majority of the people had little _but_ tents and food, and had set them up on the other side of the hill.

But lack of shelter was not the only problem for the people of Regold. Erin had also noticed upon their arrival that the number of menfolk was very low. The mayor had confirmed her suspicion that evening, when he met with Eomer to work out a plan for rebuilding the town. "The Orcs came upon us suddenly, my lord," he had said. "We had no time to flee. The menfolk took up what weapons they had and tried to hold back the horde, while the women and children ran. Most of them got away, but the menfolk…" the mayor had shrugged expressively. "We're somewhat short of labor."

"That is why we are here," Eomer had said, his expression betraying his anger and sorrow at the tale. Erin had felt a similar mix of ire and pity. So many children growing up without a father…and some without a mother either. Perhaps she would speak to Eomer about creating an orphanage. It would give the womenfolk, at least those who were too old to help in the fields, something rewarding to occupy their time.

But she had had no time to speak with Eomer of such things. Eowyn had approved of the idea, but had cautioned her that there were other matters that required their attention for now. Erin had agreed, of course; they had an entire town to rebuild.

And so she found herself here, surveying the Rohirrim below and watching for someone who seemed in need of aid. She wouldn't be able to help with the more complicated or specialized parts of the process, but she could wield a hammer and saw as well as the next man. Practicing archery and swordwork had strengthened her arms, not to mention the hard labor she had done preparing supply wagons. Her muscles had finally been given a chance to heal during the journey here, and now Erin was ready to push herself again. _No hot baths here_, she lamented for a moment. _Ah well. I think there might have been some sort of salve in those healing kits…_

Suddenly she caught sight of a man attempting to cut some planks for the frame of a house using what was quite obviously a two-man saw. Erin smiled to herself as she descended the slope and made her way to his workstation. "Hello, sir!" she called when she was within earshot. He turned, somewhat startled, and she smiled winningly at him. "Mind some help?" she asked.

He shook his head slightly, plainly confused by her sudden appearance.

"Looked like you could use another man," Erin offered in explanation as she took up the other end of the saw. He gave her a strange look as he grabbed his own end, saying nothing. There were men calling for more planks, and they needed to get sawing.

For two long, tedious hours Erin's full concentration centered on her task. It was far harder than she had originally thought, leaving no breath for conversation, and Erin already knew her arms and back would be in agony tomorrow. Her strength left her in minutes, but a strange kind of adrenaline kept her going. She couldn't think beyond the next plank, focused only on making certain none of the builders had to wait for their wood. She was aware of very little around her except for her partner, the current piece of wood they were cutting, and the pile of waiting planks that they strove to keep constant. She was caught up in the sense of teamwork and the feeling that she was accomplishing something good, so preoccupied that she didn't realize how tired she was until someone called a halt.

The men immediately gathered around the woman whose arrival had prompted the stop. She had two pails of water and a drinking cup, and her young daughter carried two baskets of rolls. Erin and her partner laid the saw down carefully on the ground and joined them, Erin fighting back a groan as her back muscles protested her straightened posture. She refused to give into the compulsion to throw herself out on the ground; she would not show weakness, not to these men. She was all too conscious of the looks she was getting; her dark hair and foreign speech made her stand out, and it was not difficult for the men to figure out her identity. They were watching her suspiciously now, judging her. That made it all the more necessary for her to work without complaint. She had to prove herself to these people.

She took a quick drink of the clear, cool water, relishing the feel of it traveling down to her stomach before she cupped her hands and splashed more on her face. She walked away, stretching absently, rolling her shirtsleeves up and fanning herself. She wished some clouds would come and save her from the sun; though she had admired it this morning, its glaring heat was now nothing more than a nuisance. _All right Erin_, she told herself. _You're not weak, by any means. Take some deep breaths, get your breath back, and then go back and do some more work. They need you_.

Suddenly a man cleared his throat behind her. She turned, schooling her face into a calm, interested expression, betraying none of her exhaustion. It was the man who had sawed with her, an apologetic look on his face. "Lady, if you are willing, the men are returning to work."

She could clearly hear the hope in his voice; he wanted her to aid him again. There was obviously no one to take her place. Sighing inwardly at her own weariness, she twisted one last time in the hope of relieving some of the pain in her back before replying. "Of course, ah…." she waited.

"Jarem, lady," he supplied, dropping his gaze in deference.

Erin smiled. "Well then, Jarem, shall we return to our saw?"

But Jarem hesitated. "If I may ask, lady, why are you aiding us?"

Erin could surmise the thoughts behind the question. She had no stake in this town, nor did she know any of its people. She had no obligation to help them. "Why does your King aid you?" she retorted with a kind smile.

Jarem's brows creased. "But this is not your land, nor are you of the Rohirrim," he protested finally.

Erin closed her eyes briefly against the pain that rose up in her heart suddenly. "No land, no people are mine here," she said quietly, meeting his eyes. "I fought in the War of the Ring, you know," she continued. "I was there, upon the Pelennor Fields and at the Black Gates. Your king saved my life once. I saw the destruction wrought upon the land and its people by Sauron's armies." She paused, struggling to vocalize her thoughts. "I just…I just want to do what I can to heal that."

Jarem held her gaze a moment longer, and then nodded once. "Thank you, Lady," he said, and in that reply Erin heard not only gratitude, but acceptance. At least to this one man, she had proved her intentions.

"Please, call me Erin," she said lightly. "I'm not highborn. Never have been, and hopefully never will be."

Jarem grinned. "Of course…Erin."

And as she went back to work, Erin's fear of being shunned was briefly forgotten in the warm glow of achievement.

"HEALER Lindir!" came the deep baritone voice from the doorway of the herb closet. Lindir, facing the doorway, stopped his diatribe on the merits of immediately and bowed as much as the room's confines would allow. That alone told Megan it must be someone important. She paused in her work, cutting and preparing the for storage and use, and glanced over her shoulder. A glance was all she would spare; Lindir was often visited during their lessons by other healers wishing to consult him on some problem, and he expected the girls to listen and continue their work, though if they had something to contribute he had asked them to speak up.

Megan froze when she realized that their visitor today was no mere healer. She tapped Kavila, who stood next to her engaged in the same task, on the shoulder. Kavila glanced back as well and gasped when she saw who had interrupted their lesson.

It was Aragorn.

Immediately Megan's mind began to race. The King did not come all the way down to the fifth level for small reasons. Surely he wasn't here to request aid, for himself or others; he looked to be in perfect health, and he was quite a competent healer in his own right. If a soldier or civilian were injured, it would be another soldier or civilian who came to ask for help—not the King himself.

Unless…unless he was here to inform the girls that one of their friends was hurt. Perhaps Adrienne had been injured in a swordfight with Dregor, or Sarah had had an accident in Kalva's shop.

Megan went cold all over as another possibility occurred to her. Maybe he had just received a dispatch from Rohan with news of Erin—bad news. Had she fallen ill? Erin hadn't sent a single letter in the three weeks she had been in Rohan.

But Aragorn smiled to see Megan and Kavila. "Ah, ladies! I had forgotten this was your lesson time. Forgive me, but I fear I must take your teacher from you for a moment. But then, you appear to be occupied," he said, coming closer to look over their shoulders. "advice about leaf." He drew back somewhat reluctantly; Megan realized with a brief pang of sympathy that he probably missed the days when he might retreat to a place like this, with no further responsibilities than to learn and complete the tasks that were set him.

"But I cannot tarry, I am afraid. Lindir, I need to speak with you," he said, nodding toward the door. Lindir bowed his head in acknowledgement and followed Aragorn out the door.

"What do you think that was about?" Kavila said as she returned to her work.

"I don't know," Megan murmured, somewhat consoled that Aragorn had not immediately revealed some sort of disturbing news. If anything had happened to one of her friends, Aragorn would not have hesitated to tell them.

ARAGORN led Lindir to an adjoining room where their conversation would not be heard by inquisitive ears—specifically those of the two girls down the hall.

"Healer Lindir, I am organizing a delegation to accompany Prince Legolas to Khand on Kingdom business, and I need a healer to accompany them," he stated when Lindir had shut the door.

Lindir nodded cautiously. "You wish me to recommend someone?" he asked.

"No, I have already decided who I wish to send," Aragorn said. Lindir nodded, apparently unsurprised. Aragorn had, after all, met many of the healers when he had worked for a few days within the Healing Houses after the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, and again after the Battle of the Black Gates. However, Aragorn was quite certain the person he had selected would be at the bottom of Lindir's list of candidates. "Kavila will accompany them."

Lindir's gaze shot up to meet Aragorn's, his eyes wide with astonishment. "Kavila! But, my lord, she is not ready for such responsibility! I have only begun to train her in all the things she would need to know!"

Aragorn suppressed a laugh at the man's reaction. "Nonetheless, she is the best choice for this delegation, I believe. The envoy I spoke with was somewhat similar to her in appearances and dress. I think that she may be…more familiar with the customs of this land than any other I might send, and any aid I can offer the Prince will be better than none. He will leave in one month. Will you have time to instruct her well enough?"

Lindir sighed a little as he thought. "I…yes, I suppose, with a great deal of extra lessons. She must be willing to dedicate herself to this, however. I assume you shall ask her today?"

Aragorn nodded. "I would not send her unprepared. The earlier she begins these intensive lessons, the more ready she will be to serve as Healer to the delegation."

Lindir bowed slightly. "Then, if you wish, I will return and ask her to come and speak with you."

Aragorn smiled. "That would indeed suit me. Please, go. I would not keep you from your duties."

"Thank you, my lord. I will send her immediately," Lindir said and left, already planning how to instruct Kavila in the necessary techniques and medicines in a single month. It would be difficult, yes, but it could certainly be done…

SARAH regarded the bow laid out on the table before her with profound satisfaction. The honey-brown wood curved gently from one tip to the other, smooth and gleaming in the sunlight. At the thickest part, carved to fit snugly in a person's hand, she had wrapped black leather. Just above the leather, a deep notch had been made—the arrow shelf, she reminded herself. Kalva had taught her all the parts of the bow as he guided her through the steps of construction.

She had helped him with various other projects, minor tasks on bows that were usually nearly finished. But one day she had arrived at the shop and Kalva had presented her with two relatively unfinished bow staves. He had told her that she was going to learn the process of creating a bow from start to finish, and she couldn't have declined even if she had wanted to, though of course she hadn't. She had awakened every day the past few days with an image of the finished bow in the forefront of her thoughts, excitement plastering a smile on her face that nothing could remove.

Now that it was done, her only thought was that her imagination had been nowhere near the reality. It was beautiful. The grain swirled into a graceful spiral in the front of the bow, partially covered by the grip. She couldn't get over how smoothly it curved; she felt like she could run her hand up and down it for hours without getting bored. She beamed as Kalva came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

Kalva was smiling just as much as she was. His pride in her was evident in his voice when he spoke. "A fine bow, Sarah. Might even be better than my first one."

Sarah bowed her head shyly. "You gave me all the pieces, and you told me what to do."

Kalva chuckled softly. "Ah, but you did all the hard work, piecing it together and sanding and polishing it. Don't turn modest on me, Sarah. This is your work, and fine work it is." Sarah just beamed. "Shall we try it out?" he said finally.

Sarah whirled to face him. "Oh, could we? Maybe we could close the shop early and go practice?"

Kalva just laughed. "We'll take our lunch break at the range. It's only another hour." He paused. "If you could decide on fletching colors, you could fletch some arrows for your bow."

Sarah felt a thrill of pride run through her when he said "your bow." She thought for several minutes as she went about the task of sweeping up sawdust, remembering all he had taught her about arrow fletching and the colors that were best for daytime and nighttime archery. Finally she approached Kalva. "I know what colors I want to use," she said.

He glanced up from the bow limb he was carving from a piece of yew. "You know how to fletch an arrow, do you not?" he asked pointedly, softening the question with a smile. Sarah beamed back; nothing could dampen her spirits right now.

She went to the chest of drawers against one wall where Kalva kept his feathers for fletching. Each drawer held feathers of a specific length and color. Over the past few weeks she had learned where all the colors were, since she had fletched hundreds of arrows for various clients. Each person had a distinctive fletching pattern, and she had used all the colors at least once.

She carefully selected a half-dozen of the reddish turkey feathers; she had always marveled at the mottled patterning on them, and had decided to use them as the distinctive cock feathers for her arrows. She then chose twelve bright blue feathers as her second color. She trimmed them carefully so that all the feathers were the same length, then set to work preparing the shafts. She figured six arrows ought to be a good start; if she had time before lunch she would make more, but she didn't think she would.

She took more care with these arrows than she had ever used before; she would accept nothing less than perfect arrows for her bow. Her bow. It still made her giddy to think of it. She smiled and concentrated on placing the fletching just right.

She was on the last arrow when Kalva cleared his throat behind her. With a great effort she prevented herself from jumping; this was a critical stage of the fletching process, and she had been utterly lost in a trance of focus. "You should know better than to disturb someone when they're fletching arrows," she murmured without turning around. "especially when those arrows already have points attached."

"I don't think I'm in a great deal of danger," Kalva returned in the same soft, low tone as he rested his hands on her shoulders. Sarah couldn't help a little shiver.

"If you want to go to lunch, I suggest you let me finish this arrow," she said in an effort to get him to leave so she could recapture her shattered concentration.

Kalva chuckled. "Very well. I will collect our lunch." He moved off into the back room where he stored a supply of simple foods for late nights. Sarah managed to finish her sixth arrow before he returned, and occupied herself gathering all six into a bundle which she tied to her bow with a cord. She didn't have a quiver yet…maybe Kalva could teach her how to make those, too.

Kalva nodded approvingly at the way she had bound everything into one manageable bundle. He had a basket tucked under one arm which was emanating some tantalizing smells. Sarah was very hungry; she had known she was close to finishing the bow, and hadn't eaten much breakfast this morning. She had been too eager to get to work.

They quickly slipped next door to the armory. Vilad was sitting in the sun polishing some blades; he looked up with a wide grin when he realized who had come to visit. "Kalva, Sarah! Welcome! It has been too long since I have seen you."

Kalva laughed. "It has been less than a fortnight, my friend. And a busy fortnight, too. Sarah has finished her first bow."

Vilad smiled at her before looking carefully at the bow. Sarah waited nervously for his opinion. He rose and ran his hand along the smooth surface of the wood, brows knitted in thought. Finally he met her gaze, his expression completely serious. "This bow shows a great deal of work. Fine work." He smiled as Sarah grinned with relief. From the look on his face she had thought he was going to list off all its faults. Of course, she couldn't see any faults, but she knew she was biased.

Vilad's stern expression returned. "I must warn you, however, if you want this one to teach you archery—" he nodded at Kalva, who was watching him with a mixture of surprise and amusement, "he is not an easy instructor. I've had many a cadet leave in tears after one of his lessons."

Sarah giggled; she couldn't imagine Kalva ever making anyone cry, much less a military cadet. Kalva was rolling his eyes as Vilad turned his gaze to his friend. "You go easy on her, you hear? I'll not have her leaving in tears." Then he stepped closer to Kalva and whispered something in Kalva's ear that made the younger man blush heatedly. "Vilad! For goodness' sake, go back to your polishing and leave this to me! I think I know just as well as you how to tutor someone in archery—and in swordsmanship!" Vilad's serious countenance broke into a wide grin as he laughed heartily.

"Very well, I shall leave archers' business to the archers. The targets are yours for as long as you wish." He returned to his seat and his swords.

Kalva moved toward the targets, and Sarah followed him, heart pounding with anticipation. Kalva and Vilad had both said it was a good bow, but they hadn't actually tried to shoot with it. She wondered if it would actually work, or if the wood would snap or the string break when she finally used it. When they reached the target area, she untied the bundle of arrows and sighted down each of them, finding slight defects that only heightened her anxiety.

Kalva's hand on her shoulder startled her out of her worry. "Come. Do you wish to learn to shoot or not?"

"But…what if it doesn't work? What if it breaks?" she burst out without thinking.

Kalva smiled kindly. "Have you no confidence in your work? It will not break. And if you have no confidence in yourself, believe that I would not allow you to make such a grievous mistake that the bow would break upon use. Come, pick up an arrow."

When she had done so, he stepped up behind her. "Now, hold the bow in your left hand, nearly vertical but tilted slightly to the right, like so." He reached out and adjusted the angle at which she held it. "That is so the arrow will remain on the shelf. Now position yourself just so, with your feet apart that much—" he positioned himself, his left foot forward and his right foot about two feet behind, turned to the side for stability. The rest of his body was turned completely to the side, so that only the left side of his body faced the target and he could pull the string directly across his body. She followed his example.

"Good. Now take the arrow and place it on the shelf, and hold it there with the forefinger of your left hand. Grasp the arrow with the fore and middle finger of your right hand, like so, and pull the nock back to the string. Make sure the cock feather points outward." He reached around her and adjusted the position of her right hand, his chest warm against her back. She had to remind herself not to lean back into him. "You see how that keeps the other feathers from hitting the arrow shelf as they pass over it, because of the way they are angled?" Sarah nodded. "If they were placed differently and one feather hit the arrow shelf, it would make the arrow fly off to the left. That is why they are angled so." Sarah nodded again, and he stepped back briefly. "Now, make certain the arrow is straight and level with the ground. Otherwise, the arrow will fly too high or too low." When she had checked it, he moved forward again.

"Now, pull the string back to your ear. Remember where you stop; that is your anchor point, and if you change your anchor point you will change the flight of the arrow. The goal of every archer is to be consistent in his shooting; once you have learnt that, you may begin to adjust your aim." Sarah pulled back on the string, her hands shaking slightly as she held it back. Kalva touched her right elbow, which was angled upward as her arm bent to pull back the string, and brought it down until it was parallel to the ground. Though she couldn't imagine why, she realized that this made it easier to hold the string back. "Keep both eyes open, and place the point of the arrow in the middle of the center ring. You must always aim with the point of the arrow. When you have aimed, then you may release the string." Sarah let go with a sigh of relief. Her muscles had been quivering with fatigue from holding the string in that position. To her dismay, the arrow flew wildly to the left. She glanced up at Kalva, disappointment shining in her eyes. "What happened? Why didn't it hit the target? I did everything you said!" she exclaimed.

Kalva smiled a little. "You did not wait to hear the rest of my directions," he answered. "When you released the string, you plucked it." He demonstrated with an imaginary string. "You must grasp the string with the first part of each finger, by merely curling your fingers around the string. You do not need to grasp it, really. And you must be careful to let go quickly by uncurling your fingers, rather than pulling at it. That will throw the arrow off-course." He nodded toward her first shot, which had embedded itself in the wood fence about four feet to the left of the target. "You understand?"

Sarah nodded. "Should we go get it?" she asked.

Kalva shook his head. "Shoot a few more times, and then we shall collect all your arrows."

Sarah took up her stance facing the target and began the process over again. And if she didn't learn quite as quickly as she usually did, well, she could be forgiven for enjoying Kalva's attentions as he corrected her, whether or not Kalva realized her real motives. Gradually she began to tire, her aim becoming more shaky as her arm strength diminished. When the bow visibly trembled in her hand, Kalva pointedly suggested she rest and take some lunch, and she agreed without complaint.

She laid the bow against the wall of the armory and sat down next to Kalva, who was unpacking the lunch he had brought. She rolled her shoulders, feeling the stiffness that signaled sore muscles later. She had been placing a great deal of the strain of drawing the bow on her shoulders, and now she was paying for it. Oh well—it had been well worth it. She smiled to herself, remembering, as she reached for the cheese that Kalva was slicing up.

Kalva glanced up, noting the way she leaned back against the sun-warmed stone. "Are you sore?" he asked her as he scooted back beside her.

Sarah smiled ruefully. "Yeah. I probably should have stopped about a dozen arrows earlier, but—" She shrugged and winced. "Damn. I might not be able to do more than fletch arrows for awhile."

Kalva grinned back. "Would you like me to see what I can do?" When she raised an eyebrow in question, he motioned with his hands as if kneading bread. He wanted to give her a massage, she realized.

She only hesitated a moment. It wasn't often she was offered massages, and she figured Kalva wouldn't volunteer unless he knew what he was doing. "Sure." She presented her back to him, and a moment later his hands descended on her. She gritted her teeth as his talented fingers found all the sore and tight spots in her shoulders and back. But once he had worked the rough parts out his hands gentled up, manipulating her muscles into a loose, relaxed jumble of nerves. She wasn't exactly experienced with massages, but she thought he might have drawn it out somewhat longer than he had needed to. Not that she was complaining; when he finally removed his warm hands she sighed at the loss and tried in vain to come up with reasons why she should convince her relaxed muscles to lift her back into an upright position. Her growling stomach was the deciding factor; she had eaten breakfast several hours ago, and had worked steadily since then. There was also the fact that she could then see his face...

Sarah moved herself back up against the wall next to Kalva, smiling contentedly. "Thank you," she said as she grabbed a hunk of bread. "I think that might have been the best massage I've ever had."

"And I'm sure the fact Kalva was giving it had nothing to do with it," Vilad said wryly from the doorway of the armory. He stepped out, smiling down at them. "I'm afraid I've a class coming in very soon, and you shall have to vacate the range. But then, I'm sure it's time for you to return to the shop." He cast a pointed look at Kalva, who sighed reluctantly.

"I'm afraid he's right," Kalva said. "Let us return and finish our lunch in peace. Besides, it is too painful to watch this imbecile attempting to teach archery."

Vilad raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching suspiciously. "Ah, but this is not an archery class. 'Tis a class in swordwork, a subject in which Kalva is out of his depth, as I'm sure you will find, Sarah."

Sarah glanced back at a furiously blushing Kalva and regarded Vilad with confusion. "Kalva is a perfectly competent swordsman. He fought at the Battle of the Pelennor Fields and the Black Gates."

Vilad broke into loud guffaws. Kalva snatched up the bow and arrows in one hand and the lunch in his other hand, brushing past Sarah with a muttered entreaty for her to follow before she made things even worse. She cast one last bemused glance at Vilad and then followed Kalva back to the shop. When the door to the street finally closed behind them, she turned to Kalva. "What was that all about?"

"I would rather not explain it to you," he said as he handed her bow and arrows to her. "Go put this in the back."

She did so, returning quickly. "Kalva, seriously, what happened? You can tell me."

Kalva set the lunch basket down heavily on a table, turning to face her. His face was still bright red. "He was making a pun. On swordfighting." Sarah waited for further explanation, and Kalva sighed resignedly. "Swordfighting is often used to mean something…less proper. I…look, it was just banter between men. It's not something proper to explain to women."

Sarah's brows creased as she tried to make sense of the somewhat convoluted explanation. "I…what…oh. Oh. Oh!" she finally realized what Kalva was getting at, and her confused expression was replaced by one of utter mortification. She was sure her face was cherry red, and probably warm enough to cook something on.

Kalva turned back to the table, absentmindedly fitting together the bow pieces laid out on the table. "Is your back up to filling an order of arrows?" he asked finally. She replied affirmatively, and he detailed the order. She had been working for perhaps ten minutes when Kalva spoke again, so softly Sarah almost couldn't make out the words. "I haven't the faintest idea where Vilad was getting that. It's not as if I've ever had any complaints."

Sarah glanced up, hardly able to believe her ears. "You…what?"

Kalva met her gaze, flushing all over again. "I didn't say that out loud, did I?" Sarah nodded, and he dropped his gaze. "Please ignore me. I was merely thinking out loud." He sounded as if he were about to cry, he was so embarrassed.

Sarah hid a smile; he was so cute when he was embarrassed! But she knew he was mortified at having to explain the pun to her, and she felt bad for forcing him into doing so. She also knew that he was still uncertain how to treat her, still trying to convince her that he wasn't a complete lower-class buffoon, as if she were some highborn lady he had to impress. He probably worried that she thought he was crude or something because of the way he and Vilad had talked. Well, it was time to let him know once and for all that not only would she not shrivel up in horror at hearing someone jest about such topics, she could flirt and tease with the best of them.

Keeping her gaze firmly on her work, she spoke up. "Vilad may be right, I suppose. It's not as if I would know, after all; I haven't anything to judge by."

Kalva froze, bent over his work. After several seconds he rose, his face blank with astonishment. She glanced up at him once, quickly, unable to keep her lips from twitching impishly as she dropped her gaze to her busy hands again. As he stared at her, his expression gradually transformed into one of mixed amusement and something else Sarah couldn't identify. A smile grew across his face, and he shook his head slowly as he sauntered toward her. She looked up at him, allowing a playful smile to surface on her face. "How about this?" he murmured, leaning closer.

And then he kissed her, and she had all the proof she needed.

KAVILA glanced up quickly as Lindir reentered the room, lost in reflection. She wondered what that expression meant. He didn't appear angry or worried, just…thoughtful. Before she could say anything, Megan spoke up. "Is anything wrong, Lindir?"

He looked up, his lips quirking into a brief smile. "No, not at all. However, the King wishes to see you, Kavila." Megan and Kavila exchanged an apprehensive look. Why would Aragorn need to see her? And why not Megan as well?

Megan gave Kavila a reassuring smile as Kavila rose and left the room. She walked slowly down the corridor, running a mental inventory of all her activities in the past few days. If it had been a problem with one of their friends, Megan would have been allowed to come. Therefore, Kavila reasoned it must be some problem with her. Yet she hadn't done anything _wrong_ recently—not that she knew of. Had she violated some custom or offended someone? She certainly hadn't done so on purpose, but one never knew—especially since they were in a completely different world that could have been relatively easily mistaken for a medieval court. She was utterly out of her depth here.

She didn't want to consider the other possibility, but she couldn't help thinking that it might have something to do with her skin color. Every time she went out she was painfully conscious of the way people stared, and it wasn't just because she was one of "those girls from another world." The plain fact was that people with dark skin were not only rare in Minas Tirith but were associated with Sauron, and put together those qualities made her an object of suspicion—no matter what the King's opinion on the subject was. And it wasn't just the common people; the nobility looked down on her as well. The only places she was safe from the scrutiny were her room and the Houses of Healing.

Then she came to the doorway flanked by two of the distinctly armored Tower Guard; it was not difficult to discern which room the King was in. With a deep breath and fervent prayer for courage, she entered.

Aragorn rose to meet her with a warm smile. "Ah, Lady Kavila, come in and sit down. How do you fare?"

"I'm well, thank you," she muttered, keeping her gaze to the floor as she perched nervously on the nearest chair. No matter how friendly he behaved toward her, Kavila always felt like a little child facing a stern elder when she came before the King. She couldn't forget even for a moment that he was the ruler of the vast Reunified Kingdom, as it was being called now. He had led armies of thousands of men, killed plenty others, and had even faced Sauron. To have the gaze that had once opposed the Dark Lord himself turned upon her made Kavila tremble.

"Lindir told me that you have done exceptionally well in your studies," Aragorn said as he took his own seat.

"Thank you, my lord, but I have done nothing exceptional," she protested. "I merely learn what he teaches."

"Ah, yes…modest as always," Aragorn said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "Well, I am very pleased with your progress in your studies. In fact, I have brought you here to ask you if you would be willing to accelerate your studies in healing."

Kavila glanced up involuntarily, caught off-guard by the unexpected twist of the conversation. "Why, my lord?"

"I am sending a delegation to the land of Khand in a month, and I need a healer to accompany them," Aragorn replied, holding up a hand to stop Kavila's protests that there were others far more qualified than she. "Hear me out. I am asking you not only because of your interest in the healing arts, but also because I believe you may be able to aid the envoy in other ways."

"Other ways, my lord?" Kavila was quite confused by Aragorn's wording.

"I noticed that the envoy from Khand was similar to you in skin color and dress—traditional dress," he clarified when Kavila's gaze flicked over her conventional tunic and leggings. "It is my hope that you might be able to recognize and advise the delegation on some of the customs of Khand."

Kavila nodded slightly. It occurred to her suddenly that Aragorn was, ironically, treating her unique qualities as assets rather than liabilities. It lifted the cloud of doubt over her thoughts just a little bit, but even that slight change was a relief for her. "I…this is rather…sudden," she said finally. "May I—"

"Of course you may think on it, my lady," Aragorn interrupted. "I did not mean to require your answer immediately. Send me your answer when you have decided—but do not take too long, for you will have much to learn before you leave. Lindir has agreed to teach you, but it will require many extra hours of intensive studies nonetheless, and the sooner you begin the more prepared you will be."

Kavila nodded again. "Thank you, my lord. I will return to my lessons now; I am sure you have duties to attend to."

Aragorn sighed wearily. "Yes, I do. The work of the King is never done. I had hoped that I might escape for a little longer…ah, but listen to me, I sound as if signing papers and presiding over councils is hard labor. I would do well to remind myself of the true nature of hard labor, do you not agree?" Kavila said nothing, unsure of the proper response. Aragorn chuckled. "Perhaps I will go and ask your weaponsmaster for a sparring match…Vilad was his name, was it not?" Kavila nodded and rose, but made no further move toward the door.

Aragorn closed the distance between them with a few long strides, placing a finger under her chin and lifting her face to his own. His green eyes were soft with understanding. "You need not fear me, Lady Kavila."

"Please, my lord, call me Kavila," she said, trying desperately to evade his statement. "I am no lady."

Aragorn smiled. "Only if you will call me Aragorn." He dropped his finger from her chin and turned to the door. "Farewell, Kavila."

"Farewell, my l—Aragorn." Kavila caught herself at the last moment. Aragorn turned back in the doorway and grinned at her, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment. Then he was gone, leaving Kavila with a mind full of questions and no answers in sight.


End file.
